


That was Then, This is Now

by GuestPlease



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Domestic Maul, F/M, Fluff, Gen, His lower half is a realistic looking prosthetic, Jemini copyright taffee23, Kidfic (Kinda), Maul and Obi-Wan still HATE each other, Maul just wants everyone to think his wife is as cool as he does but from a distance, Minor Character Death (offscreen), Non-Linear Narrative, Possessive Maul, Vulnerable Maul, add more tags as i go along, but it's fine she doesn't mind it helps her abandonment issues, much like Luke's, or Vader's
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 07:41:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 37,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29025141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GuestPlease/pseuds/GuestPlease
Summary: After Darth Vader appears on Tatooine, and runs across Luke Skywalker, Obi-Wan takes the boy and runs.He runs so far and so fast that he goes to the only person he thinks he can trust right now-- a former Jedi, and a former lover.Maul, for the record, was not pleased to have his wife woken up to deal with Kenobi having kidnapped a boy, and asking for sanctuary. He's also not pleased that he can't just kill him.
Relationships: Darth Maul & Luke Skywalker, Darth Maul/Original Female Character(s), Past Obi-Wan Kenobi/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 29
Kudos: 18





	1. During (I)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [taffee23](https://archiveofourown.org/users/taffee23/gifts).



On a small planet in the Mid Rim, near Mandalore but in a different star system, an old (but not as old as he was pretending) Jedi burst into the palace, carrying a child. The guards, not knowing the Jedi, raised their energy weapons threateningly.

“State your business.” Commander Keth stated, trying to make his voice sound deeper. He had gotten this job because he was the nephew of the captain of the guard, but since he was still a greenhorn, he was on the night-shift.   
“I need sanctuary.” The Jedi pleaded in a polished, core-world accent. “For the boy, if not for me. Please.”

Commander Keth took a step closer, making eye contact with the small child. “How do you feel about this?”   
“I want to go home!” The child burst out, wriggling out of the Jedi’s arms and running to an empty corner of the room. “Please let me go home, please, I’ll be good!”   
Commander Keth shot the Jedi a dark look. “Did you kidnap this boy?”

“No!” The Jedi said quickly.   
“He grabbed me.” The boy contradicted.   
“I was going to say this isn’t a matter for the queen, but she’ll want to weigh in.” Commander Keth said. “Nobi, go get her.”

And that is how, Nobi, who had gotten moved to the night shift of the guard for rough-housing too much with the prince-consort, got sent _directly_ to the queen and consort’s room.   
He knocked hesitantly, then stuck his head in. “Your-your majesties?”   
The queen stirred gently, but mostly to curl up against the consort. Nobi could make out a smaller lump—the princess, most likely, in between them after a nightmare.

Nobi tiptoed in. “Your majesties? There’s a Jedi here.”   
The prince consort’s yellow eyes snapped open. “A Jedi?”   
Nobi nodded. “Um, he has a boy with him. He wants sanctuary. Commander Keth said to get the queen.”   
The prince consort huffed. “He would.”

(It did seem like the right thing to do, in Nobi’s opinion. The Queen would be fair. The Prince Consort… well, Nobi didn’t want to see him up against a Jedi who was making questionable decisions regarding children. As if sensing his thoughts, the consort curled a protective arm around his daughter.)   
“I’ll wake her up. Guard the door.” The consort said softly.   
Nobi saluted, the consort rolled his eyes, and then Nobi left.

In the darkness, with just his wife and child breathing the full, slow breaths of sleep, he wasn’t the consort. He was just a husband, a father, as unlikely as both of those had once been. He was just Maul.   
“Gemstone.” He said gently, pressing a kiss to his wife’s forehead. “My Jem, wake up. There is a Jedi here.”   
As expected, she groaned and shuffled closer to their daughter, trying to stay asleep.

“Jemini, wake up.” He muttered in her ear. “I don’t think _I_ should be the one to greet the Jedi.”   
“Not a Jedi anymore.” She mumbled sleepily.   
Maul didn’t have a good reaction for that, because the Emperor stealing his wife’s power from her still filled him with rage. Instead, he just leaned over and gently bit her earlobe.   
Her eyes flew open, as she gasped.   
“A dirty trick.” She pouted at him, though he could see the smile in her eyes.

He relaxed into the bed. “I’m full of them. Sith, after all.”   
“Would you like to show me more?” She muttered, leaning forward. She promptly came into contact with their daughter, then she looked at him.   
“We can’t have sex with Lipra in the bed, Maul!” Jemini hissed. Apparently she’d been asleep when their daughter crept in.  
“It’s good that I did not wake you up for sex.” He replied flippantly. “There’s a Jedi here. Seeking sanctuary, wants to talk to you.”

Jemini stared at him for a moment, before rising as quickly as she could, and gathering her dressing gown. Even in the dark, he could see her through her silk nightgown, including the swell of her belly. Maul watched her with a certain sense of pride. _His_ wife, carrying _his_ second child. She caught him, of course.   
“Stop that, this is serious.” Jemini scolded, though her lips twitched upwards.   
“As the Blue Shadow Virus.” Maul agreed, still watching her.

“…later.” She promised.   
He licked his lips. “I’ll hold you to it.”   
Dressing gown covering her, she shot him a _Look_ , presumably trying to instill a bit of patience into him, before she left.   
Maul managed to wait a few moments, trying to let Lipra’s breathing lull him back to sleep. But every part of him screamed _danger_. He rose, and headed to the door. Nobi was still there, good.

“Watch the princess with your life.” Maul growled. (He knew Nobi would, but it was good to say it anyway.)   
Nobi straightened. “Yes sir!”   
Maul tilted his head, watching him. “Maybe watch her from inside the room. She’s already had a nightmare tonight. I don’t want her to wake up alone.”

Nobi nodded. “I will sing her the fluffy bunny song.” He said with the utmost seriousness.   
Maul allowed himself a smile. Nobi was a good lad, even if he did have a weak left side that led to him being taken down a lot by Maul himself during their spars. He would protect the princess with his life from the Jedi, now it was up to Maul to protect his wife.

He followed her path to the great hall, trying to keep stealthed. He didn’t think he was doing his best work, given that every so often she would glance behind her and shake her head, but that was neither here nor there. There was a _Jedi_ afoot, and Maul didn’t trust it. Lipra was force sensitive, though she hadn’t necessarily _done_ anything with it yet. (He was very proud of her.) There was no way she wasn’t, and the Jedi had a habit of taking children and turning them into weapons. The fact that this Jedi already had a child with him did not assuage Maul’s fears.

Finally, Jemini emerged into the great hall, Maul shadowing her. The Jedi was surrounded by Keth’s men, Keth himself attempting to coax an obviously scared child out from under Jemini’s throne. It seemed to be working, mostly because of Keth’s stash of caffeinated sweets that he used to keep himself awake on the night shift. (Maul laughed inwardly thinking of the Jedi having to deal with a hyper child.)

But then.   
_Then._

“Jemini?” A voice Maul had hoped to _never_ hear again asked, in amazement.   
“Obi-Wan?” She replied, moving forward. “By the Force, it’s so good to see you! What are you doing here?”   
“I came to beg sanctuary.” Kenobi said. “I still have the sigil you gave me, I was hoping to use it with the current ruler to prove that I knew you.”   
“He may have kidnapped a child.” Commander Keth interjected, having successfully acquired said child, who was sucking on a hard candy. Maul would buy the commander new hard candies as a thank you for breaking up the Kenobi love fest.

Maul slunk closer, waiting to hear how Kenobi would justify _this_.   
“What is your name, little one?” Commander Keth asked. “What happened? Don’t worry, the queen will do the right thing.”   
“My name is Luke Skywalker.” The child said. Ah, no wonder Kenobi felt he had a right to the boy. “I was in the marketplace with my aunt, when the-the big man came.”

“Vader.” Kenobi interrupted softly. “The boy was hidden on Tatooine, and Vader, for whatever reason, came to visit. The boy wasn’t scared of him, and introduced himself. The Skywalker name piqued Vader’s interest—and I knew I had to get him out of there. His aunt signed off on it.”   
“You’re lying!” Little Skywalker wailed. “Aunt Beru said she was never never gonna get rid of me, just ‘cause I’m not her blood baby!”

Commander Keth bounced him. “Hush, hush, sounds as though your aunt was just trying to protect you. Vader is…”   
“An evil Sith.” Kenobi finished vehemently. “One of the worst I’ve ever faced.”   
Maul chose this moment to reveal himself. “Well, you didn’t _face_ him, you just grabbed Tiny Skywalker and ran.”

Kenobi recognized him. Of course he did. He withdrew his lightsaber, and pushed Jemini, presumably meant to be behind him. “You!”   
Maul withdrew his own lightsaber. “Me.” How _dare_ Kenobi push his wife! And try to protect her! From him!   
Commendably, the guard surrounded him, except for Keth, who was still holding Tiny Skywalker.

“Yes, arrest him!” Kenobi said, utterly misreading the situation.   
How had Kenobi been a general if he couldn’t read an attack formation? But he was right, in that the guard was (accidentally) holding him back. Kenobi was still closer to his wife—oh force, his _wife_.

Maul jumped out of formation, running forward to strike down Kenobi once and for all. Kenobi was ready, however, and brought his lightsaber up to meet Maul’s. Good. Maul did not want this to end _quickly_ , that would be a disappointment.   
“Stop!” Jemini screamed. “Both of you!”   
No. No, he needed his revenge. For how he had to have his DNA taken so that they could have their children, instead of just embracing his wife. For every time he’s had to go to a _mechanic_ instead of a _doctor_ to deal with his legs, like he’s some kind of droid. He could tell by Kenobi’s face that the man feels the same, as though what he did last time wasn’t enough. Maul always knew the Jedi were just as bloodthirsty as any Sith, they just _lie_ about it.

“Jemini, he’s a _Sith_.” Obi-Wan said, like an idiot.   
“He kidnapped a child from a Sith father. What’s to stop him from doing it again?” Maul challenged, much smarter.   
“He’s not going to take Lipra.” Jemini snarled. Ah, there was his gemstone. But then she turned to Kenobi. “And _he’s_ not going to cause problems.”

“He’s a Sith!” Kenobi repeated. “That’s all they do!”   
Jemini was about to reply, but then she grimaced, clutching at her stomach. Maul sheathed the saber, running to help her.   
“Don’t touch her!” Kenobi snarled. “You won’t take her like you took Satine!”

Maul ignored him, and let his wife’s guards contain Kenobi.   
“Are you alright?” Maul asked her softly, burying his nose in her light hair.   
“Fine.” Jemini said. “Just… kicked harder than Lipra did. Are you sure the horns don’t grow in until later?”   
“I’m sure.” Maul said softly, placing a hand on her abdomen. There was another strong kick. “They will be a great warrior.”   
Jemini laughed. “That’s what you said about Lipra.”

“She will also be a great warrior.” Maul said offhandedly. One could be a great warrior and cry when an innocent animal was injured, and try to fix it. One could be a great warrior, and have a comfort toy when they were Lipra’s age. One could be a great warrior and be a happy child. Presumably. She had already mastered battle cries at an incredibly young age.

“No.”   
Oh, right, Kenobi. Maul whipped around to glare at him.   
Kenobi was staring at them with horror on his face, and… was that _jealousy_? From a Jedi?   
“Jemini, you… with _him_?” Kenobi said.   
Jemini took a deep breath. “Why does it _matter_ to you? And don’t say because he’s a Sith. I _know_ that.”   
“You… we were once…”

“Exactly.” Maul interrupted. “ _Once_. That was then. This is now. You came here to beg for sanctuary, why shouldn’t we return the boy to Tatooine, and avoid Vader’s wrath?”   
“We weren’t tracked. I can promise that.” Kenobi snarled. “And the boy’s family has definitely been killed by now.”   
“Not all of them.” Maul raised an eyebrow. He _knew_ this was going to happen, that Sidious was going to turn Skywalker to the Dark Side. Did anyone listen to him? No.

“Vader will turn him into a weapon!” Kenobi snapped.   
“Enough! Both of you!” Jemini snapped back. “I am the queen here! Luke can stay for now, it’ll be good for Lipra to see someone her own age. Obi-Wan… you can stay as well, _provided_ you leave my husband alone.”   
“The Sith don’t make good parents.” Kenobi huffed. “That’s the whole point of this.”   
“Obi-Wan.” Jemini ground out. “Leave Maul alone, or _else_. You’re here as my guest. You’re not getting rid of my husband.”   
“I still can’t believe you married _him_!”   
Maul shrugged. “We could renew our vows if it would make you happier.”

“Maul, stop antagonizing him.” Jemini ground out.   
“What happened?” Kenobi asked, somewhat sadly. “How could you? We were…”   
“We were padawans together. We were bound by the code of the Jedi.” Jemini said gently. “Whatever we talked about then… I thought you’d moved on.”   
Maul narrowed his eyes. Was he a second choice? After _Kenobi_?

“I suppose I just had a lot of room in my heart.” Kenobi said, diplomatically.   
“Ah, so you’re a whore.” Maul added, helpfully.   
“ _Maul_.” Jemini glared at him.   
“What, my gemstone? It’s _true_.”   
“You’re not… he’s not a whore for remembering his first love. Obi, we will always have that. But this isn’t the time or place to discuss it. And it doesn’t give you the right to start problems with my _husband_.” With that, she swept out of the room, Kenobi’s eyes following her.

“Um, sir? Where do we put Mister Skywalker?” Commander Keth asked.   
“I think he’d do well in a room near Lipra’s.” Maul said. “May I hold you, Mister Skywalker?”   
“My name’s _Luke_.” Tiny Skywalker said, but he let Maul take him.   
“Would it be alright if you stayed with my wife and I, until we get the situation sorted?” Maul asked softly, watching as Kenobi was escorted away. Far, far away.

Tiny Skywalker nodded gently. “Yeah, I guess. Can you call my aunt though?”   
“I promise you, we will do everything in our power to contact your guardians.” Maul said. “But, in case they are unavailable, you can… stay here. As long as you’d like.”   
He was not going _soft_ , it’s just that children don’t deserve whatever their parents did. Lipra was innocent, she wasn’t stained with what he’d done.   
Tiny Skywalker looked at him. “They’ll come for me. They said they would.”

“Alright. I don’t doubt that. I just meant, if the signal is bad, and we cannot get through to them for a while.” Maul said gently, turning on his heel to bring Luke into the protected family quarters.   
“Okay. The comm signals are real bad on Tatooine.” Luke conceded. “Where are we going? Who’s Lipra?”   
“Lipra is my daughter, the princess. I am taking you to your room here.”

“I’ve never met a princess.” Luke said with wide eyes.   
“Lipra is three standard years. I am given to understand she is like most little girls her age.” Maul replied. “Do not hurt her, and there will be no problems.”   
“What if I hurt her _accidentally_?” Luke asked, eyes wide.   
Ah. Yes. Children needed clear boundaries and communication.

“We will deal with the situation as it occurs.” Maul finally said, pushing down rage at the thought of his daughter being hurt. “We will not release you to Kenobi unless you want to go with him, though.”   
“What’s a Sith?”

“A type of force-wielder.” Maul replied. “I am a Sith, or at least I _was_. I do not prescribe to the teachings anymore, mostly because I do not have the time, or the excess of negative emotion.”   
“The big man was a Sith?” Luke asked.   
“Yes, I am given to understand that that was Darth Vader, apprentice to the Emperor.”   
“Wow.”   
“He’s not that impressive. I’ve tried to kill him in the past.” Maul said off-handedly.   
“What’s negative emotion?”

“Things like anger, sadness, hatred, fear. These are all things that can fuel the Sith.”   
“The big man seemed sad.” Luke confessed.   
Maul shrugged. “The Emperor is not a kind master. I imagine Vader doesn’t have a lot of happiness in his life.”   
Luke leaned against him. “That’s sad.”   
“That’s the way of the Sith.” Maul said. “Now, Luke, I have a question for _you_. How many standard years are you?”

“Five.” Luke said. “I just started school.”   
“We will handle that.” Maul replied.   
“I don’t wanna go back.” Luke confessed. “To school, I mean. The other kids say I have a slave name. They’re mean about it.”   
“There is no shame in being a slave.” Maul said. “I could be considered a slave, once.”   
“My dad was a slave.” Luke said. “I’m the first—first freeborn Skywalker in my family. Aunt Beru said so.”

Maul considered this. “There is honor in knowing where your ancestors came from. Your aunt sounds very wise, I’m sure that she misses you very much.”   
“Yeah.” Luke said softly.   
They stopped outside a guest room door. “Do you need anything to help you sleep?” Maul asked.   
“I’m not tired.” Luke protested.

Ah, yes. The candy.   
Maul hefted Luke onto his other hip. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Do you need anything?”   
“Not really.” Luke said, implying that there was something but it was unobtainable.   
“We will provide you with pajamas tomorrow.” Maul said, suddenly acutely aware that he was only wearing his training trousers, having not changed into his silken pajamas. Again. “If you want them.” He finished lamely.

Luke shrugged.   
“I –and my wife—are down the hall, two doors to the left.” Maul said. “My daughter is down the hall, _one_ door to the left. Please don’t burst in on her without an introduction. Come to me or my wife if you have problems. Or the soldiers, they’re here to help you.”   
“Okay.” Luke said.   
Maul opened the door, and set Luke down on the bed. It was huge, meant for adults, but by the look on the boy’s face, it was bigger than even his family had had.   
Maul knew that feeling. “Please get under the covers.”

“I’m not sleepy.” Luke protested, but did as he was told.   
Maul waved a hand in front of Luke’s face, reaching out to feel the boy’s Force. “You are suddenly feeling very tired indeed. The day has been trying, and all you want to do is go to sleep.”   
Luke yawned. “How can a day be trying?”   
Maul paused. “The day has been… a lot. Sleep will do you good.”   
“Sleep will do me good.” Luke repeated, before falling asleep.

There. Jemini disapproved of him doing that to Lipra, but once wouldn’t hurt this boy. Besides, it was the only way to counteract Keth’s sweets.   
Maul left the room, moving Nobi to protect the boy outside the room, before returning to his family, already fast asleep.


	2. Before (I)

Talkaye was dead.

Oh, Jemini knew she was an adult, and no longer her Padawan. But that didn’t mean that they were any less connected by the force. She knew, the moment it happened, that Talkaye had died. And died slowly, and painfully, far from home.

And Talkaye’s padawan was dead as well. Jemini had felt Talkaye’s pain and anguish ripple through the force. Jeegth had been a young Rodian, scarcely out of the temple when he was assigned to Talkaye. Brave, resolute Talkaye, who had been called to many warzones. Witty Talkaye, who had died on a peace mission because she—Jemini—had not been strong enough to lean into the Force and become the General her troopers needed her to be.

(The official report would say that Talkaye had been ambushed by Separatists, who had used Jeegth to ensure her surrender, before stabbing him and taking her. The official report would say that there was nothing that the Jedi could do, but later, Hondo Ohnaka would find her mutilated body drifting in an asteroid field, and identify her by her lightsaber. The official report would say that Talkaye probably had not given into interrogation, but _just in case_ —

The official report would go onto say that they lost the planet to the Separatists. That they were _outbid_ , because General Talkaye Avenmonk had not been able to sway them to the Republic side. As though that was more important than Talkaye’s life.)

She had tried meditating. She had tried speaking to someone about the _ache_ the Force had left with her, where Talkaye had once been. Master Unduili had been sympathetic, as had Masters Plo Koon, Fisto, Windu, and Kenobi. All of them said the same thing, though. That she must give up her attachment, and accept that Talkaye had become one with the Force, and she must accept this.

She had blown up at Obi-Wan, who she had been trained with, who had been by her side for as long as she could remember.   
“How could we not be _attached_ to our _padawans_?” She screamed at him. “What if it had been Anakin? Would you just accept it?”   
“Anakin wouldn’t be in that situation!”   
“Why? Because he wouldn’t give himself up for Ahsoka like Talkaye gave herself up for Jeegth?” Jemini demanded.   
“No, of course not!” Obi-Wan said. “Anakin is—it wouldn’t have happened like that.”   
“Why not?”

“Because Anakin wouldn’t have died!” Obi-Wan burst out.   
Jemini stared at him. “Are you saying, that it’s my fault?”   
“Jemini, I only meant to—”   
“Because I agree.” Jemini said softly, collapsing into a chair next to him.   
“It isn’t.”

“This wouldn’t have happened to Anakin, but Talkaye, I didn’t train her enough. I didn’t—it should have been me!” Jemini hissed at him, before sobbing. “It should have been me!”   
“You did train her. As well as any Jedi.” Obi-Wan said softly. “It couldn’t be helped.”   
“I should have been there instead of her, don’t you get it?” Jemini asked. “I wasn’t there! I wasn’t there to broker peace, I wasn’t there to protect her—what is the _point_ of all of this, Obi?”   
“Every death is another step towards peace.” Obi-Wan said gently.

Jemini shook her head. “Is it? This war is never going to end!”   
“We’re going to win!”   
“That’s just Republic propaganda!” She growled, pulling at her hair. “Every night, I lie awake, because if I close my eyes, I see them. I see them _all_ , Obi! I-I see the people we’ve killed. I see the people we’ve _failed_. I see dead clones upon dead clones, dead _children_ —and now Talkaye, and Jeegth. Stop telling me to accept their deaths, because they never should have died in the first place!”   
“Don’t you now see why attachment is dangerous?” He asked her quietly.

“She was my _padawan_! I can’t just forget that!” Jemini snarled, pulling away from her. “Let me _grieve_ , damn you!”   
“Grief is natural. You’re _consumed_ by this. It’s not befitting of a Jedi.” Obi-Wan pointed out.   
Jemini took a deep breath. “Then maybe I shouldn’t be a Jedi!”   
“Jemini…”

“No. This isn’t me being _impulsive_. I’ve been thinking about this. I can’t keep doing this, Obi-Wan. I _can’t_. I can’t keep killing, and I can’t keep letting people _die_.”   
“So, you’d rather quit entirely?” Obi-Wan scoffed.   
“I want to go far away from this war, yes! I… I want it to end. I want to start _healing_. And I can’t do that here, as a Jedi.”   
“If you would just meditate in the Force—”   
“Obi-Wan, the Force isn’t everything to me. It’s… I can’t. I want to be able to _feel_ without everyone thinking that I’m going to turn into a Sith. Nothing you do will change that.”

Obi-Wan took a deep breath. “And what does that mean? For us?”   
Jemini put a hand on his cheek. “Oh, Obi. I’d offer for you to come with me, but we both know you won’t.”   
“I can’t.”   
“ _Won’t._ ” Jemini repeated. “You won’t leave the order, because Anakin is here. Because however much you might have loved me, once, there are others you love more.”   
“Love isn’t about more or less, Jemini.”   
She rolled her eyes. “If I stay here, it would be for you. And I can’t… I need to be able to love. Properly. Openly. I want to love knowing that I won’t be another line in the tragedy of Obi-Wan’s love life. I don’t want to be Satine Kryze, or Siri Tachi. I’m me, Jemini Erebai.”

“Where will you go?”   
“Ryeesha. Home.” She dug something out of her pocket, and pressed it into his hand. “If you need me, or help, come to the palace on Ryeesha and show them this. They’ll know you’re a friend of the royal family.”   
“When did you get this?”   
“When we visited last time.” Jemini said flippantly. “I guess I’ve never been good about refusing attachment.”

Obi-Wan looked at the sigil embroidered onto the handkerchief, then nodded, slipping it into his own pocket. “Thank you. I’ll remember.”   
Jemini offered him a watery smile. “Just… try to remember happiness, I guess? One of us should, at least.”   
“Now that, I cannot promise.”

Jemini sighed. “It seems like no one will ever be happy again. How could they? After all of this?”   
“The war will end. It has to.” Obi-Wan said. “The Republic will be victorious.”  
Jemini grimaced. “At this point, I don’t even care about the Republic, or the Separatists. I just want it to end. …probably another good reason for me to be leaving the Jedi.”   
“Maybe.” Obi-Wan said. “I’ll find you after all of this.”

“Obi-Wan, I’m not coming back to the Jedi after the war.” Jemini said. “This isn’t a break. This isn’t a spur of the moment decision. I’m _going_. Ryeesha is neutral, like Mandalore. I’m going back to my family—and they might want me to rule.”   
“Oh.” He said. “So, this is it then.”   
“This is it. I’m going to the Council after this, and then Ry—then home.”   
They stood, and hugged briefly. Then she left his apartment. A few hours later, she left the Jedi. An hour after that, she left Coruscant.

Days later, she stepped onto Ryeesha, and into her mother’s arms. And she wept, freely, and openly. And she survived. And she became a princess in truth and not just name.

Her mother understood when she would withdraw, and sometimes spoke to her. Her mother had lost children before, and still felt their losses keenly. But this still gave her hope—her mother, Queen by the Erebai clan, still grieved. But it was not a fresh grief, and it had smoothed over. In time, Jemini trusted that she might smooth as well.

The dead still haunted her. They would always haunt her. But she held against it.   
She took tea with her mother.   
She read with her father.   
She went speeder riding with her brother.   
She began to heal, to relearn happiness.

And then her brother told her that he didn’t want the throne. Suddenly, Jemini was thrown off-balance, realizing that she would likely become queen.

“I… why would you have _me_ do it?” Jemini demanded. “I was raised Republic, we’re neutral!”   
“I don’t want it. Any of it. You’re good with power, and responsibility.” Virjo cracked his neck, rolling it to look at her. “Besides, it’s your birthright. You’re the eldest daughter.”

Jemini looked down into the gardens. They were standing on a terrace in the moonlight, just off of the dining hall. She was dimly aware of the guards around them, but they still felt… _alone_.   
“Why would anyone trust me after all the blood on my hands?” She finally muttered.   
“That’s far off war stuff. You haven’t hurt anyone here. You have tightened your belt and tried to help, same as the rest of us.”   
“Exactly! Same as! Not-not better than, or…” Jemini waved vaguely. “I’m not meant for this.”

“Jemini, I can’t have children.” Virjo said.   
“What do you mean, you can’t have children?” Jemini demanded.   
Virjo shrugged. “I mean, I’m in love with a male Twi’lek smuggler, and Ryeeshans aren’t genetically compatible with them even if I weren’t gay.”   
Jemini stared at him. “Do… Normsag and Kaiydon know?” She still couldn’t call them Father and Mother, not out loud at least. She was working on it.

“What, that I’m gay? Yes. That I’m planning on running off to see the stars with Rin Ta Cris? No. Not yet.”   
“You are going to tell them, right? In person?”   
Virjo looked away from her. “Well…”

She punched his shoulder. “You’re going to leave it for me?”   
“ _Mayyyybe_.” He gave her an evil grin.   
“Force, I hate you.” She laughed. “Seriously though, tell them yourself.”   
Virjo looked away. “I don’t want them to be… alone again. They’re so happy now that you’re back.”   
“I’m not leaving.”

“You’ve never had to be… both.” Virjo said. “The child they lost, and the child they have. I envy you for that. I envy you for a lot of things—for all the things you’ve seen.”   
“They’re not as good as you think.” Jemini said, suddenly uncomfortable.   
Virjo glanced at her. “Not-not that. Not the _war_. But all the times before it. There must have been something beautiful.”   
Jemini paused.

Finally she spoke. “There’s a time when our ship burst out of hyperdrive in the middle of its journey. It was a mechanical failure. I was just a padawan at the time. We were stuck there for a while, with nothing to do but look out the windows, because most of the ship’s power was devoted to fixing the problem. But I was content to watch it for hours.”   
“What was it?”   
“It was a cascading nebula.” Jemini said, finally looking at her brother. “Colours merging and mixing together, and then new ones forming and repeating it, on end, forever and ever, as stars were born, and burned, and died, and danced all over again.”

“Where is it?”   
“Just outside the Dagobah system.”   
“See, this is what I want. Stories, and-and memories of things like that.” Virjo sighed, staring off into the horizon.

“I guess I get that.” Jemini admitted. “I wanted the adventure of being a Jedi when I was young too.”   
“Excuse me, I’m only three years younger than you.”   
“You’re 30.”   
“So? I’m not exactly an old fart like Mother and Father.”

“Are you saying I am?” Jemini laughed. By the Force, it felt good to be able to laugh again.   
Virjo shot her a shining grin. “Yes.”   
“Rude. You definitely have to tell Mother and Father your business then. I’m not helping.”   
Virjo’s grin grew. “You called them Mother and Father.”   
Jemini smiled back. “I did.”

And for the first time in a long time, it felt okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Jemini left in the middle of the clone wars (21 BBY). Ryeesha has been trying its best to stay neutral, and her parents are keeping the war's effects on the planet as best they can from their children. 
> 
> However, the shortages on the neutral planets are still taking place-- hence smugglers like Virjo's Twi'lek. The second half of the chapter takes place in 20 BBY. My Jemini is a bit younger than Obi-Wan (born 53 BBY instead of 57, because he was apparently a late bloomer).


	3. After (I)

Luke rolled over in his bed, and felt someone poke his face.   
He opened his eyes, startled, to find a little girl with big gold eyes watching him, a faded blanket next to her.

“Hi.” She said happily.   
“…hi.” Luke replied. “Who are you?”   
“I’m Princess Lipra Xadrita Ilitai Erebai.” She said proudly.

Luke looked at her. Her blonde hair looked like her mother’s, thought much rattier instead of a sleep braid. It also seemed paler, as did she. She was wearing a very pink nightgown, a kind of cloth Luke had never seen. It looked very shiny indeed, but that might have just been the colour. She was barefoot, and Luke was of the opinion that princesses should have shoes.

“Your father is the one with red skin and horns?” Luke said dubiously.   
“Yeah!” Lipra said.   
“You don’t look like him.” Luke said.   
Lipra gave an annoyed sigh. “Yeah, ‘cause I re-resim—I look like a Nightsister.”   
“Why?” Luke asked.

“’Cause Papa is a Nightbrother!” Lipra said, in a tone implying he was an idiot for not knowing that.   
Luke flushed. It wasn’t his fault that he didn’t know things.   
“I’ve never heard of a Nightbrother.” Luke snapped.   
Lipra pursed her lips at him. “Well, he is.”   
  
“Why are you in here anyway?” Luke demanded.   
“Nobi said there was someone new. I’m the princess, I get to see.” Lipra said imperiously.   
“Mister Kenobi?” Luke felt all twisted up. He knew about Mister Kenobi. Kind of. Auntie Beru had always said he was a kind, good man, who lived in the desert because he was a deep thinker. He’d given Luke candy on a few trips to Mos Eisley spaceport before, when they’d run into him. But Mister Kenobi had grabbed him and taken him away from his home, and Luke didn’t like that at all.

“No. Nobi.” Lipra pulled on his hand, pulling him out of bed while clutching her blanket in her other hand. She brought him to the door, where a guard was waiting.   
He waved awkwardly at the children. “Ah, hello. Princess, you’re not supposed to be bothering him.”   
“I’m not bothering him!” Lipra announced. Luke didn’t want to contradict a _princess_ , but his face must have betrayed him, because the guard stifled a laugh.

“I’m-I’m sure you’re not, princess, but shouldn’t you get changed into your day clothes?” The guard asked.   
Princess Lipra pouted, but walked away anyway.   
Nobi, the guard, knelt down next to Luke. “Is there anything I can get you?”   
“I want to go home.”

“Ah… I’m not… qualified to address that.” Nobi scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “But the prince consort and queen have invited you to breakfast with them.”   
Luke took a deep breath. Maybe this one would finally get it. “I’m just Luke. I’m not… special.”   
Nobi the guard considered this. “Well, Just Luke, you may not be special… but are you hungry?”   
Luke’s tummy gave a little gurgle, answering for him.

“A better question; are you rude enough to refuse?” Nobi asked.   
Luke shook his head. “No. Auntie Beru made sure I have all my manners.”   
“Okay, then. Do you mind if I show you where they’re having breakfast?”   
Luke shook his head again, and let Nobi take his hand.

Maul was sitting next to his gemstone, both still dressed in their pajamas.   
He pretended to read a datapad, and she stole bits of food off of his plate, knowing full well he could see.   
In return, he snagged food off of hers.

She gasped in fake outrage. “Stealing food from a pregnant woman?”   
He looked up at her and smirked. “Repatriations from the Jedi.”   
She stuck out her tongue. “I haven’t been a Jedi in years.”   
He popped a bit of fruit in his mouth, and bit down. Flavor burst across his tongue—sweet, and sour. “But you don’t deny that I require repatriations after your theft?”

She tried to look innocent. “Theft?”   
He picked up a similar fruit on his own plate and brought it to her mouth. “Theft, my gemstone.”   
She kissed his fingers as she took it. “It’s not theft if it’s freely given.”   
Maul cupped her cheek. “Oh? And what would I get in return?”   
She turned her head to kiss his hand, blue eyes big. “Well, what would you want?”

They had been married for four years, and she still made his breath hitch in his throat. “You.”   
Oh, he could pretend it was merely sexual, that he only wanted her spread out in front of him, screaming his name. And he did want that.   
But he also wanted her curled up in his arms. His. Safe.

She gave him a slow, sly smile. “How do you want me?”   
He swallowed thickly, before pulling her into his arms and burying his face in the crook of her neck.   
“Like this?” She asked gently. “Or…?” She leaned down, sucking at his neck.   
“This is repayment for last night, isn’t it?” He groaned, still smelling her delicious sweet scent.   
“Mm.” She took the opportunity to pop a bit of bread drizzled in honey—from his plate!—into her mouth. “Maybe.”

“Cruel Jedi.” He groaned.   
“Are you any better, my Sith?” She cooed, pulling his chin up so he could look her in the eye.   
He kissed her, gently, tasting the honey and fruit in her mouth. She pushed her tongue deeper, hands clutching his face, staking her own claim on him.   
Dimly, he was aware that there was a table nearby, and if he just swept all of these troublesome plates out of the way—

There was a knock at the door, and Nobi stuck his head in. “Uh, your majesties? May I present Master Luke Skywalker of Tatooine.”   
“Nooooo!” Came a childish cry next to him. “Just Luke!”   
Jemini pulled away from Maul, who felt a strong urge to slam the door in Nobi’s face, lock it, and return to worshipping his wife. His queen. His gemstone.

“Come in.” Jemini called, staying in his lap.   
Nobi entered, with Luke, and gave a short bow.   
Luke noticed, and tried to match him, albeit a bit clumsily.   
Jemini smiled at him. “Hello, Luke. Would you like to sit down and eat with us?”

Luke nodded shortly, and Nobi led him over to the table, pulled out his chair, and then pushed it back in.   
“Help yourself to whatever food you would like.” Maul said. “Feel free to ask questions if you don’t know what something is.”   
“I don’t know what _any_ of it is.” Luke protested, eyes wide.

Nobi laughed, which turned into a yawn.   
“Go get some rest.” Maul told him. “You’re no use to anyone half-asleep.”   
Nobi looked at him with the Sad Eyes, doubtless learned from Lipra. Maul was impervious to all manner of Jedi and Sith mind tricks, but the Sad Eyes were some of the strongest. However, Nobi was merely an apprentice, so Maul jerked his head to the door, and Nobi went.

“I hate the night shift.” He muttered as he left. “Nothing interesting ever happens.”   
Jemini ignored him. “Well, is there anything you’d like for breakfast? Maybe we have something similar.”   
“I like having bantha milk to drink with my porridge.” Luke said. “But I don’t really like porridge.”   
Jemini slid off of Maul’s lap. “Hmm, I don’t think I’ve had bantha milk. We have zibral milk, it’s sort of like a big bird. Would you like to try it?”   
Luke nodded, and Jemini poured him a bit.

He sipped it, and made a screwed up face.   
Maul laughed. “I don’t much care for it either. Here, have this.”   
He grabbed another empty cup, and poured the boy a bit of juice made from the same fruit he and Jemini had been eating before.

Luke dutifully tried it, then took another sip. “It’s good.”   
Maul nodded, satisfied.   
“What is it?” Luke asked.   
“Tonberry juice.” Maul replied. “A personal favorite of mine.”

Luke’s face lit up a bit, and he took another sip.   
“What don’t you like about porridge?” Jemini interrupted.   
“It looks like baby food.” Luke announced.   
“Then would you like some bread? Or maybe some eggs? We have something similar to porridge here, called ly’thra, which has grains cooked in a rich broth, drizzled with a kind of plum sauce?” Jemini was firmly in Mothering Mode now. Maul loved seeing it—with Lipra, with the peasant children… and now with Luke. But poor Luke was looking a bit overwhelmed.

Maul took a bit of dark bread, and offered it to Luke.   
Luke gave him a grateful look, and nibbled on the bread.   
Jemini shot him a confused look, and he leaned over to whisper in her ear. “When you grow up with few options, too many can be scary.”   
She nodded, leaning against him, watching Luke carefully.

“Do you want to talk about your family, Luke?” She asked.   
Luke looked up. “Um, I live with my auntie Beru, and my uncle Owen. We make water.”   
“Farm moisture.” Maul corrected. “Make water is a euphemism for urination.”   
Luke scrunched up his face in concentration. “What’s—”   
“It’s a fancy word for peeing.” Jemini interjected.

“Oh.” Luke laughed. “Yeah. Uncle Owen says the thing too, but I can never get it right. Auntie Beru gives really good hugs, and tells bedtime stories, and Uncle Owen teaches me things I can fix or make, especially when I’m feeling sad. He’ll give me something to fix, and not ask questions, and it makes me feel better.”  
“Do you remember their family name?” Jemini asked.   
“So we can contact them.” Maul added. Provided, of course, that they were alive.

Luke frowned in concentration again.   
Lipra chose that moment to enter, bedecked in the pink gown of the day, her hair still unbrushed.   
Luke’s eyes widened upon seeing her—Maul often felt the same way when confronted with the rich outfits that his daughter loved. (He hoped she’d grow out of them. They would be very hard for a warrior to move in.)

“Mama, Papa!” She said in greeting. “Hey, you’re here!”   
Maul moved to intercept her before she could move to Luke. “Duckling, did you go visit our guest before breakfast?”   
“Uh huh.” Lipra squirmed to look at Luke, who continued to eat his breakfast.   
Maul deposited her in her own chair, and began gathering things for her breakfast.

“He’s my new friend!” Lipra announced, as Jemini scooched her chair a bit closer and began to fuss over Lipra’s hair. Having never had any himself, Maul did not see the appeal.   
“You don’t even know my name!” Luke protested.   
“I’m a princess, and I say we’re friends!” Lipra shot back.

Jemini paused. “Lipra, friendship is about being there for each other. You have to be nice to him to make him your friend. Why don’t you ask him about himself? Starting with his name?”   
Lipra pouted. “What’s your name?”   
“Luke.”   
“Where’s the rest of it?” Lipra asked.

Maul chuckled. “Not everyone is born a princess, duckling. Your mother is right, though. Be nice to Luke, and he will be nice to you.”   
“He has to be nice to me anyway.” Lipra announced.   
Maul handed her the plate that he had prepared. “Yes, but loyalty is earned through kindness, not demands.” A lesson that had taken him a while to get used to.

“I think we should have her be around more children. Clearly the crown has gone to her head.” Jemini muttered.   
“What’s wrong with her being better than them?” Maul asked, completely sincere.   
Jemini stared at him. “That’s a quick path to tyranny if she doesn’t grow out of that.”   
Maul shrugged, and Jemini shook her head. “No, we’re not setting her up to rule through fear alone.”   
“They will love her because of the victories she brings.”

“Maul, she’ll be _lonely_.” Jemini insisted. “And paranoid. That’s no way for her to live.”   
Maul did consider this, then nodded once. He looked to Luke, who was currently nibbling on bread while Lipra monologued next to him.   
“Luke.” Maul said, causing both children to look at him. “If your guardians clear it, would you be alright to stay with us? Just for a bit?”   
Luke nodded slowly, eying Lipra.

Later, Maul walked into town with the children. Lipra’s hair had finally been tamed, and Maul had finally put on a shirt, but otherwise everything seemed much the same.   
Lipra skipped up next to him. “Papa?”   
“Yes, duckling?”   
“Luke’s really quiet.”

“Some people just are.”   
“How do I help?” Lipra asked.   
“Give him time, duckling. Let him come out of his shell a bit, like that sprawk we found the other day. Remember how it took food from you after it trusted you, but not at first?”

Lipra nodded.   
“But he probably won’t ever talk as much as you, so let him be if he asks, alright?” Maul continued.   
Lipra nodded again, and returned to Luke. She held his hand in her left, and her blanket tightly in her right.

“What’s the story with your blanket?” Luke finally asked.   
“My uncles gave it to me.” Lipra answered. “It’s gotta consternation embroidered in it.”   
“Constellation.” Maul corrected, stopping briefly to shake a peasant’s hands, and kiss another’s baby.   
“Yeah, consternation.” Lipra repeated flippantly.

Maul stopped at a shop, and tugged on the children’s shoulders as they walked past, steering them in.   
It was a tailor’s shop, one frequented by the royal family.   
“Ilitai!” Maul called.   
A Kaminoan appeared out of seemingly thin air surprisingly fast. “What’s this? Does my namesake need a new dress already?”

Lipra giggled. “Auntie Ilitai!”   
“Lipra’s friend, Luke, may be staying with us for a bit.” Maul interjected. “He needs a wardrobe, including pajamas.”   
“I don’t!” Luke squeaked.   
“You are a guest of the royal family, even if you’re on the next transport back to Tatooine. It would be rude if we didn’t take care of you.” Maul replied, kneeling next to the boy.

He wouldn’t be going back to Tatooine any time soon. Jemini had already started making discreet inquiries. Mos Eisley was currently in complete and utter disarray, and finding anyone nearby would be rough as is. The reason for that disarray was Darth Vader, who had most likely killed the boy’s family (as Kenobi had said). Maul did not often find Anakin Skywalker relatable, but he too would kill anyone who kept Lipra from him.

Reassured, Luke nodded and Ilitai moved forward to take his measurements. “Do you have any colours you’d prefer? Pink, perhaps?”   
“Nooo, Auntie Ilitai, pink is my colour!” Lipra giggled.   
Ilitai pouted at the girl. “Oh? I did not know that no one else could have pink in all of Ryeesha. I happen to quite like pink. I think it would better on this little pink-faced boy than you, my darling princess.”   
“I don’t like pink that much.” Luke confessed.

“Blue, then? To bring out the colour of your eyes?”   
Luke looked down. “I like red, but not too much red?”   
“Ah, finally, someone who understands the importance of _accents_.” Ilitai said.   
“I was going to say someone who understands the importance of red.” Maul said mildly. “How much do we owe you, Ilitai?”

“Less if I get a new apprentice out of it.” Ilitai clacked her fingers excitedly. “He has nimble fingers, I can tell.”   
“Are you a Nightsister?” Luke interrupted.   
Maul jolted.  
Ilitai cackled. “No, I’m a Kaminoan. My kinsmen sewed together the clones of the war. I sew together clothes instead.”

“Would you want to be her apprentice?” Maul asked. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”   
“I’ll try it.” Luke decided. “Like the juice.”   
Ilitai nodded happily. “Yes, good, a smart child. And of course, you can complete your schooling, and stay with me.”

“No, Luke’s _my_ friend!” Lipra hissed.   
“He can be your friend, and my apprentice.” Ilitai replied. “He can be many things. Maul, you’re the adult. It’s up to you.”   
“It’s up to Luke.” Maul replied.   
Luke nodded slowly. “I’ll try it.” He repeated.


	4. Before (II)

Vader was bored.

Bored, and lonely.   
Five years ago, Padme had died, and the Emperor had become his master. Five years ago, his world had crumbled around him, and he didn’t think he deserved to be called Anakin Skywalker anymore. No, now he was Darth Vader.

And yet, here he stood, on Tatooine. The troopers around him, they were Kamino-grown clones, but aged. Silent, stark white. That had been ripped away from them too—the voices. The laughter. The _individuality_. Though perhaps they just didn’t talk around him anymore.

Of course, it would be a lot easier to brood if they weren’t in the middle of Mos Eisley, pretending to be interested in trinkets. The Emperor had sent him there to deal with Jabba. Jabba had sent them to Mos Eisley to pretend to be interested in buying things. According to him, the troopers needed to feign interest in local business. (Jabba had moved himself up Vader’s kill list several slots—both for the demeaning task, and for the way that he was certain Jabba was _laughing_ at him.)

So, Vader was in Mos Eisley, pretending to be interested as a local woman stuttered out that she made glass ornaments from the sand nearby. This was very boring to Vader, even as she offered up ornaments for his perusal. (He also assumed that she was free, and mildly rich, to have something so _artisanal_ as a job. On Tatooine, no less.) He stared at the ornaments dutifully. Ah, Padme would have loved those. He would buy one, to put in his little box of ‘Things Padme would have liked had she lived’.

Vader had three boxes stored under his bed.   
‘Things Padme would have liked had she lived’ was the largest, and best. The ones he felt the most sure of. ‘Things our child would have liked had she been a daughter like Padme’ was one he mostly thought about on Alderaan. It made sense, in a little way. It was just as temperate as Naboo, and Bail Organa had been a friend of Padme’s. (Bail Organa’s daughter looked like Padme, and that tugged at his heart. Would their daughter have been like Leia? Not that he knew anything about her, just rumors, but that was more than he had. So.) The third box was ‘things our child would have liked had he been a son like me’ was the third box.

It was more sparse than the other two, because he didn’t know what normal boy children liked. (He had a few puzzle games, over the years, that he felt very proud of adding.) Admittedly, he bought things as though his child was growing—baby things turned into toddler things into child things. He mostly leaned on the song of the Force for what his make-believe children would have liked. The Force, as always, cradled him and soothed him, guided him and humored him. No matter what.

So he was nice, and bought a little glass ornament for the Padme box; a tiny bantha. The woman nearly wet herself in relief. Vader tucked it into his suit, somewhere it wouldn’t get the accursed _sand_ in, and meandered off. Of course, he had cyber-netic legs, so he couldn’t _meander_ without everyone assuming he was striding about.

He stopped next to a blind grandmother of the quarter.   
“Your hand?” She creaked.   
“I’ve lost my hands, grandmother.” He replied.   
She clicked her tongue. “And what could you use to help me up?”   
Today wasn’t about being Vader. He offered her a cybernetic hand, and she took it. “Hmm. You have such despair radiating off of you, young one.”

“I have nothing but despair, grandmother.” He replied. She still hadn’t let go of him.  
“Not even hope?” She asked softly, patting his hand. “There will always be hope, as long as there is Ekkreth, young one.”   
Ekkreth. Shape Changer. _Sky Walker_.

Vader jerked his hand away. “I am no slave.”   
The grandmother raised an eyebrow. “You are no _depur_ either.”   
“Do not tell me what I’m not!” Vader growled.   
“Then what are you?”   
Alone. Guilty. The worst sort of scum.

“I am leaving.” Vader said, letting the old woman cackle. It did not matter to him. Not at all.   
As he left the grandmother, a blond little free boy ran into him.   
Vader looked down, his ire only growing. He confirmed that Padme’s ornament was safe, then growled, “Where do you think you’re going, boy?”

The boy replied, but Vader could hardly hear him over the Force singing in his mind.   
“Your name, boy?” Vader spat, in the middle of his explanation.   
The boy smiled at him. “I’m Luke, Luke Skywalker.”   
Blood rushed to Vader’s ears, sounding like the oceans of Mon Calamari, of Naboo, of… anywhere but here.

“Skywalker?” Vader replied. “A slave name.”   
“My father was free! I’m the first free born Skywalker!” Luke protested.   
“And how did your father come to be free?” Vader asked.   
“He was a Jedi.” Luke said proudly.

Vader knelt, and the Force thrummed. “I was once a Jedi.”   
“Did you know him?” Luke asked, eyes wide.   
“I might have. Where is your mother?” Vader asked. Because if there was a child, she must have survived Mustafar. She _must have_. And if she survived—

“I don’t have any parents. I live with my aunt Beru and uncle Owen.” Luke pointed, and Vader saw Beru Whitesun, now white-faced.   
“Ah.” Vader said. “That’s very… disappointing.” For just a brief second, he had had everything back. But… he hadn’t lost as much as he’d gained. He had a child. He had… wait. Someone had brought the child here, where he himself was never supposed to be. Rage filled Vader’s vision as he had a sneaking suspicion who had done this. Who had taken his son from him.

“What do you know of Kenobi?” Vader snarled at his precious son.   
“Mister Kenobi? He’s right over there.” Luke pointed, oblivious.

Obi-Wan had heard of Vader’s impending visit three weeks before it happened. He had thought through everything, and eventually decided that he needed to be there as a safety measure, but he was prepared to leave if Vader saw him. Force, if Vader saw him…

Now, here’s what he didn’t take into account; Beru Whitesun’s shopping day was the same day as Vader’s visit. And she liked to bring Luke, because he helped carry things and hated only leaving the moisture farm for school.

He had slunk up next to her as she measured grain. “That’s him, isn’t it?” She had asked. “Shmi’s son?”   
“He’s Vader.” Obi-Wan had corrected, but agreed at the same time.   
Beru had hummed a non-committal reply. “He’s shorter than I remembered.”   
“He’s _taller_ than he used to be.” Obi-Wan had replied, slinking away again. With his luck, Beru would invite no-longer-Anakin to supper.

He had tried to cut himself off from the Force as much as possible while Vader was there. The last thing he needed was to be sensed in the middle of a civilian town.   
Luke, however, had managed to find him, and had come by for his customary candy. Obi-Wan had sent him on his way, in a distracted sort of way. Luke had picked up on his distraction, and had made his way towards where Mata Sanddragon usually sat, entertaining children (mostly slaves, but a few freed descendants of them like Luke). Unfortunately, she had been about to move on.

And Obi-Wan hadn’t recognized that Luke was on a collision course with Vader until it happened. And then his heart had been in his throat. He made strained eye contact with Beru, across the market, and she had nodded at him. Right. He would have to amend his plans, then. Take Luke somewhere safe before hiding in the jungles of Kashyyk.

And then Luke was pointing at him, and then—oh. Oh no. The full fury of Vader was reaching towards him in the Force, feeling him. He withdrew his lightsaber, as Beru screamed. As they had practiced.   
Vader’s head whipped towards her, even as he withdrew his own lightsaber. Obi-Wan ran to Luke, scooping him up in his arms, and taking off again.

People had begun to panic, and this only served to hide Obi-Wan, especially as he turned off the lightsaber. He ran to his hidden spaceship, ignoring Luke’s protests and screams. He could feel Vader reaching—for Luke? For him? Oh, Force, what if he tried to kill Luke?   
“Sleep.” He hissed at Luke, needing to hide that sunshine bright spot of the Force. He would untangle the boy later.

He made it to the ship, and managed to take off. Vader looked up at them but let them go. Obi-Wan punched in a desperate course to Ryeesha. Jemini would hide them. For their friendship. For Luke.

Vader, meanwhile, seethed. Obi-Wan had taken his son from him. _Again_. He had just found the boy, and now…   
He strode through the marketplace of Mos Eisley, cutting down anyone foolish enough to get in his way. He released his anger into the buildings, his own men, anything that made a decent enough target.   
“Sir, we’ve found the woman the boy pointed at.” A trooper said.

Not a clone, he didn’t recognize the voice, but he did recognize intelligence when he saw it. They had quickly connected his bad mood to the boy, that should be rewarded. Vader did not choke the trooper, out of generosity.   
He swept through glass shards—were those from the glass seller’s overturned stall? It didn’t matter. He approached Beru Whitesun, held between two troopers on her knees, her dress torn and her face swelling.

“Where is Obi-Wan Kenobi?” Vader asked.   
“Gone.” She replied. “He never told me where he would go.”   
“Where is my son?” Vader asked, trying to make his voice soft.   
Beru tensed. “Anakin—”   
“ ** _Do not speak that name._** ”

She looked up at him then, full of defiance. “He’s not your son, then. He’s not your _anything_. I raised that boy. Changed his diapers, soothed his nightmares, tended him when he was ill. I would die before I let you hurt him.”   
“You took that from me.” Vader was nearly trembling with rage. “He is my son, and when I find him—and I promise you that I will, just as I promise you a slow and painful death—I will never lose him again.”

Beru glared up at him, now full of hate. “I won’t tell you anything.”   
“Unfortunately, I cannot say that will hasten your education.”   
“I won’t tell you his favorite colour, or his dreams, or his fears, or his favorite food, or his least favorite, or—” She was cut off by a trooper slamming his gun into her head, making it loll forward.   
Vader watched, his rage rekindled. She would take that knowledge from him too, would she? One last way of trying to keep his son from him? The Lars farm would _burn_ for this.

Vader swept away, his troopers following loyally. He had work to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Ekkreth/Tatooine matriarchy stuff is from Fialleril's 'Double Agent Vader' series. Actually, Vader's conversation with the old woman is heavily inspired by the first in the series, 'Shape-Changer', where he has a similar conversation with another old woman/grandmother of the quarter.


	5. After (II)

Maul was pacing, and frustrated, and he really, really wanted to rip something apart with his bare hands.   
On the floor, Luke was trying to distract Lipra, and Maul felt a surge of warmth towards the boy.   
Kenobi, the scum, didn’t look worried at all. Maul was not allowed to kill him, but he _truly_ wanted to.

“How can you be so calm?!” Maul finally demanded, as quietly as possible.   
“Ryeeshans always have trouble with births, especially interspecies ones.” Kenobi replied coolly. “But they have a high rate of infant and mother survival, and Jemini has the best care available.”   
“How do you know about _Ryeeshan births_?” Maul growled, jealousy flaring up as well as the anger that was already burning in him.

The children looked up, watching him.   
“I know a lot about biology.” Kenobi said, closing his eyes and slipping into a meditation pose. “It was going to be a special project of mine, before the war.”   
Another scream cut off whatever petty reply Maul was going to say, and he leaned against the door. He could do it. He could blast it apart and run to help her and-and…

“My aunt used to sing. To cover the screams.” Luke suggested.   
Maul blinked at him, distracted by the questions about just _what_ was going on in Tatooine society that it was normal to scream like that.   
“She used to take trackers out. And detonators.” Luke continued in that calm tone of voice. By the Force, what a Sith this boy could be if he realized that it wasn’t _right_ to have trackers and detonators in people. (But then, Maul supposed, that was exactly where Vader had come from, wasn’t it? Besides, the boy was already Ilitai’s apprentice, though Maul rather hoped that didn’t mean that Luke was eventually to kill her to become Master Tailor of the city.)

“Do you know any songs that the princess might know?” Kenobi asked, opening one eye.   
Lipra gasped. “The Fluffy Duckling song!”   
Maul grimaced. He did not want to sing the Fluffy Duckling song while his wife _screamed_ and _bled_ and his world might end. Unfortunately, it seemed like Kenobi was the only person he might be able to commiserate with, so that wasn’t happening.

Maul stood up properly, and resumed pacing.   
“Was it this long when Lipra was born?” Kenobi asked as the children began to softly sing.   
“Longer.” Maul snarled. He _had_ destroyed the door then. He had had to be sedated, and when he had come to, she was still screaming and crying and _begging_ for it to be over. His wife should _never_ have to beg. (He usually did the begging.)

Apparently, though he couldn’t really remember this, he had nearly taken a lightsaber to her abdomen, just trying to get the baby _out_. He was ashamed of the methodology, but clearly the idea _worked_ , as Lipra had been cut out of his wife. Now, if Jemini was in labour too long, they would cut the baby out again. But she—stubborn, foolish woman!—wanted to try and give birth _naturally_. And if this thing killed her, Maul would never forgive the baby. Or her!

“You’re worrying the children.” Kenobi said, as he passed him again.   
Maul let out a wordless growl as a reply. He didn’t trust himself with words right now, not in front of Lipra.   
Another scream from Jemini.

“If she dies,” Maul snarled, unable to control himself. “I will slaughter you where you stand, Kenobi.”   
“I hope you don’t think I had anything to do with this.” Kenobi didn’t even deign to open his eyes for that.   
“Are you blaming me?!”   
“There’s no one _to_ blame. It’s meant to be a celebration—”

“If she dies,” Maul continued, eyes blazing. “I will take the boy as a Sith apprentice and ravage worlds across all the stars I know. Do you hear me?! I will—I will…” He would do anything to make the Force realize the mistake it had made, taking her away. “I will get revenge for her.” Maul finally finished.   
Kenobi sighed, clearly finding meditation _hard_.

And then Maul heard a sniffle. He whipped around; only to see Lipra beginning to cry.   
“Is Mama gonna die?” She asked, looking up at Maul with big eyes, filling with tears.   
Luke frowned at Maul.   
Maul gathered her up in his arms, and held on for dear life. “I… no. No, she can’t. She can’t.”

Kriff, he sounded desperate. The last thing he needed was for Kenobi to pick up on his weakness. Not now, when Lipra wasn’t a warrior yet, and Tiny Skywalker was more a tailor than a Force-wielder, and Jemini—

Jemini was quiet. Too quiet. Alright, that’s it, he was blasting down the door.   
“Luke, get behind me.” Maul growled. “Kenobi, stay where you are, I don’t care if you get hit.”   
Luke scrambled behind him, because he was a good, dutiful boy, and Kenobi _sighed_ as though Maul was _inconveniencing him_ , because Kenobi was a _menace_.

He took a deep breath, and shifted Lipra to one arm. With his other, he reached out for the Force around the door. Lipra sniffled in his ear, and _then_ —

The door blew completely off of its hinges, sailing over them. It unfortunately did not hit Kenobi, but Maul consoled himself with the fact that Kenobi’s injuries would have distracted _Jemini’s_ healers. (Or they could let him die, but whatever. Jemini would be mad, so it probably wasn’t worth it. Probably.)

“Where is my wife?!” Maul snarled at the hapless healer taking a break. He was tempted to lift them up and _shake_ them, either by the Force or by his bare hand. The only thing that stopped him was a wail.   
It wasn’t Lipra’s. It wasn’t Jemini’s.   
The rage cleared from Maul’s eyes, somewhat. (Enough to recognize that he shouldn’t threaten this healer. They were young, and clearly weren’t that involved. Also, he was pretty sure that Commander Keth was sweet on them, so…)

“My lord, you have a son.” The handmaiden (whose name currently escaped him) bustled up to him.   
Maul looked. Her arms were empty, so…   
He looked towards the bed, where Jemini was looking at him, tired but fond.

He didn’t put Lipra down, but he _sprinted_ towards his wife, quickly crossing the length of the room.   
“Mama, we missed you.” Lipra said, snuggling up to her mother the minute she was put down on the bed.   
Jemini’s eyes snapped to Maul. “Oh? You missed me?” She said hoarsely.   
Maul huffed. “You know how attached I am to you.”

“Attached?” She said in that same, teasing tone, despite the fact that she was _screaming_ , and he had wanted to save her.   
“Where would I be without you?” Maul growled. “My life, my love, my gemstone?”   
She leaned against him. “My sweet sith.”

“What’s his name?” Luke asked, approaching slowly with Kenobi.   
Jemini took a deep breath. “Prince Aqoirios Savage Mace Opress-Erebai.”   
“Sentimental.” Kenobi said, but Maul could see him stiffen at the mention of his brother.   
Jemini shrugged.

“Long.” Luke scrunched up his face.   
Jemini laughed. “We probably won’t call him all of it.”   
“We usually drop the Opress from Lipra’s name as well, if it helps.” Maul added, tension leaking out of him. She was alive. She was _alive_.

Lipra peered at her baby brother, who was rather wrinkly. “He’s so small. And red.”   
“Most babies stop being red soon enough.” Kenobi said.   
Maul cocked his head. “Not this one.”   
Kenobi had the decency to flush. “No, not this one.”

Jemini grinned triumphantly at her husband, pulling him away from the victory of an embarrassed Kenobi. (He would take what he could get.)  
“I did it.”  
“I never doubted it.” Kenobi said, as though anyone had asked for his opinion. Maul growled at him, levelling him with a glare that was meant to _convey_ this, then turned back to his wife. “You put yourself in danger.”

“But I did it.” Jemini said.   
“But if I lost you…” Maul said, unfortunately losing the anger, it just replaced with concern. Which, normally, he wouldn’t have minded, but he had shown enough weakness in front of Kenobi.   
“Haven’t you guessed by now? You’re stuck with me.” Jemini laughed.

Kenobi took that as a cue to gather the children and leave. Maul didn’t really mind their presences, as Lipra was the second axis that he measured the world by, and Luke was a certified Good Child, but he was too focused on Jemini to care. Luke would protect Lipra, Maul was needed _here_ to protect his wife and newborn.

“Aqoirios is much quieter than his sister.” Maul said doubtfully, taking the baby into his arms.   
His son chose that moment to open his eyes—his cornflower blue eyes inherited from Jemini. He shook his little fist at Maul, who nodded approvingly. “A warrior.”   
“You said the same thing when Lipra screamed.” Jemini laughed, before side-eying her husband. “You’re not worried that he isn’t crying?”

“…he’s more Zabrak than Ryeeshan. We don’t cry easily.”   
“What about when you need your mother’s milk?”   
“If we’re a boy, we’re immediately given to the Nightbrother village.” Maul said simply. “There are no mothers to feed us.”   
“But he’s half-Ryeeshan.”   
“He’s a son of a Nightbrother. It’s in his blood.” Maul shrugged, accidentally waking up Aqoirios. His son finally began to cry, and tension eased out of Jemini’s shoulders.

“Shh, shh, come here little one.” She soothed, taking him back into her arms. “My little one. My baby.”   
Maul leaned back, closing his eyes. She wouldn’t be taken from him, and their son was alright. Everything was alright.

“Four weeks.” Jemini said, breaking him out of his reverie.   
“What?” He asked, turning to look at her. Breathe her in, her beautiful blonde hair cascading over her shoulders—not an ashy, Nightsister shade, no, a gold closer to sunlight—her cornflower blue eyes, her creamy skin—he was getting ahead of himself.   
She shifted the baby, who was a bit annoyed, but kept eating, and continued. “Four weeks until we can next have sex.”

“…Ah.” Maul considered this. On the one hand, he had gone his entire life before meeting her without being buried in her, hearing her moan for him. On the other, he had her now, and he wanted to worship her. He wanted to go down on his knees and show how _grateful_ he was to her, to the Force, to just plain luck.   
“I know, it’s too long.” Jemini groaned, leaning against him.   
Maul wrapped an arm around her. “You are _far_ too eager for sex, my gemstone.”   
“No. Just sex with you.”

He groaned. “You are going to give me hell for four weeks, aren’t you?”   
She pouted. “Hey, it’s not like I like it either.”   
He leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Well then, since we’re in the same boat, perhaps we can use this time to _plan_ what we’ll do when you’re healed—and desperate.” He scraped his teeth along the shell of her ear, pulling a groan from her. “Ow.” She said, looking miserable.

“Did I hurt you?” He asked quickly, pulling away.   
She shook her head. “ _You_ felt nice. The _baby_ destroyed me.”   
The baby, full now, detached and gave a little yawn. Maul looked at his golden wife, and kissed her forehead. “Give him to me. You should get some sleep.”   
“Are you sure?” Jemini asked, even as she yawned herself.

“I’m sure. I’m not going to _drop_ him, gemstone.”   
“No, I know, it’s just…” Another yawn. She blinked at him. “Hm. Maybe a nap _would_ be nice...”   
Maul pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, a chord being struck within him when she hummed happily in response. She had given him everything—he was hers. Completely, and utterly hers.

She passed the baby to him, and he stayed until she fell asleep. Then he took his son—his tiny son, who he would protect with every fibre of his being—out to see the sunset over the trees of Ryeesha.   
And for once he felt entirely at peace.   
(Until he felt something in the Force, and stiffened. _Kenobi_. Was nothing sacred?)

“Interesting name.” Kenobi commented, coming to stand next to him.   
Maul did not deign to reply. His son was _his_ business.   
“Why did you name him after Master Windu?” Kenobi finally asked.   
Maul shot him a look of utmost annoyance. “Because regarding the Jedi I am aware of, he did not cut off half of my body. And he was important to my gemstone. …she felt guilty. After the rest of the Jedi died.”   
“He was her master.”

Maul shrugged. “Personally, I don’t see the need for masters anymore. I’d destroy them all if I could.”   
“You’re a _prince_.” Kenobi said, like he still couldn’t believe it.   
“That’s by marriage.” Maul huffed. “I have no master. Not even her.” Because she _wasn’t_ his master. She was his wife. It was far, far better.

Kenobi eyed him suspiciously. “Why did you name that innocent baby after that _animal_?”   
Maul stiffened. There it was. “Kenobi, if you want to keep your _arm_ do not refer to my brother as such again.”   
“Arm? I never took your… oh.” Kenobi finally got it.   
Maul glared at him. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand, _Jedi_. He was my brother. He was my little brother, and I _failed_ him.”   
“He turned to the Sith without you.”

“By the Force, you’re _stupid_. He was under my care, and he…” Maul’s son began to wake up at the tone—and the building presence in the Force, if Maul had to bet. Maul began to rock the baby.   
“I should have protected him better.” Maul finally admitted.   
“Was that worth naming your son after him twice?”   
“Once. I forgot my own name, so I took the Opress family name as my own.” Maul corrected, looking down at his son. The baby was staring blankly at him. Maul shifted the baby into the crook of his arm, so that he could reach a finger towards Aqoirios. Predictably, the baby grabbed it and held on as hard as he could.

“It’s not a name with good associations.” Kenobi interrupted, because even with the Force, he couldn’t Read the Kriffing Mood.   
“Maybe not.” Maul said. “You’d probably prefer if my children were Kenobi-Erebai instead of Opress-Erebai. But it’s _my_ name, and it’s what I have to offer _my_ children, and all the Jedi fussing in the universe about it is only going to annoy me.”   
“I suppose.” Kenobi said, which meant Maul was 100% correct and Kenobi finally knew it.

“I envy you.” Kenobi finally admitted.   
“Why wouldn’t you? I live in a palace. You lived on _Tatooine_ for years. I have two healthy children. You have a ward who mistrusts you, if he’s even that for you. I have a loving wife. You have no _attachments_.” Maul listed off, curling the finger that Aqoirios was holding onto. The baby slowly blinked at him, and Maul smiled back. Perhaps living well _was_ the best revenge.   
“Well, that, and you’re able to… rebuild. Bounce back. Every time.” Kenobi said vaguely.

Maul narrowed his eyes at him. Kenobi’s words brought back faint memories of Lotho Minor that he preferred not to think about. However, it seemed like Kenobi was trying to be complimentary.   
“Jedi do seem to be lacking resilience.” Maul agreed.   
“And that’s why you’re here, and not tearing across the galaxy?” Kenobi raised an eyebrow.   
“ _She_ is not a Jedi.” Maul huffed. “Not like _you_.”

“You call her one.”   
“I also call her my gemstone, it doesn’t mean she’s a mineral.” Maul snapped. “Besides, if she hadn’t stopped me, you would be dead.”   
Kenobi raised an eyebrow. “That’s not how our confrontations usually go.”   
“ _I_ have grown older and wiser.” Maul growled. “I wouldn’t toy with you, I would just kill you. Remove the threat to my family.”   
“I’m not a threat.” Kenobi said.

Maul scoffed. “Forgive me if I don’t believe that.”   
Aqoirios let out a coo, and Maul smiled down at his son, before turning a wicked grin on Kenobi. “You wanted to bounce, Kenobi? _Bounce_.”   
He lifted up the man—not by the throat, Jemini would be mad and she needed to _heal_ —via the Force, then threw him into the gardens.   
“Don’t damage the plants!” Maul cackled as he felt the man fall. Then he looked at his tiny, tiny son. “We will dispatch all of our enemies together. You will be a great warrior, like all your family before you. No one will ever hurt you as long as I live, or I will destroy them piece by piece until they beg for death.”

Aqoirios yawned, and went to sleep. Apparently since people were no longer flying about, he wanted to sleep. Maul could respect that. He pressed a kiss to his son’s head, then headed inside, laughing to himself as he heard Kenobi swearing and exiting the garden. Yes, this truly was the best revenge.


	6. Before (III)

He still thinks he should kill her.

Even if she did pull him out of his own head—she is a Jedi, and that’s mostly what he’s focusing on right now. _But_ she doesn’t _feel_ like most Jedi. And she smiled at him, and it made him feel… warm. She wasn’t scared of him, she wasn’t trying to help him out of a plan to make herself ‘better’ like the other Jedi—'look, a reformed Sith pet!’ So he might let her live for now.

(She also lit up whenever she saw him, like she liked being around him. When he slipped into her bed in the middle of the night, she either curled around him, or woke up further and… and that was another thing. Hardened whores would shudder at the sight of him, but she would _ask_ that he lay with her. Again and again and again. She _enjoyed_ it. She talked to him—about her weaknesses, her grief, and he _understood_ that.) (He was never going to kill her.)

He wanted—he wanted to make her smile, the way that she did when she saw a beautiful flower, or a laughing baby. (He had a very good way of doing so. On days where she was remembering her past grief, he would sneak into the nearby town, and acquire a fruit tart for her from her favorite bakery. The proprietor insisted on giving it to him for free. This was not because Maul was Intimidating or anything of the sort. This was because other people cared about her too, which made him want to hide her away because she was _his_ now, but also soothed him. He wasn’t _odd_ for caring about her. Besides, the more allies, the better.)

At the moment, she was whirling around this bright, glittering room, while he stood in the corner (in gifted formalwear) and watched her.   
“You haven’t taken your eyes off of my sister all night. Is there something on her face?” Virjo asked, out of nowhere.   
Maul managed to tear his eyes away from her, because he was many things but he wasn’t _rude_.

“No.” Maul ground out. He gripped his crystal flute of champagne tightly (his excuse for standing by the wall, not that he was asked to dance).   
Virjo hummed, leaning against the wall. Maul watched him, vaguely annoyed, because if the Ryeeshan knew something, he should _say it_.   
“You know, the sister is heir to the throne.” Virjo finally said.

“I’m aware.” Maul scoffed. She had officially accepted the responsibility shortly after returning to Ryeesha with him in tow.   
Virjo raised a pale eyebrow. “Well, she’s also a highly eligible bachelorette, and she’s going to need to get married soon.”   
Maul could have sworn he heard a _crack_. His hand felt cold, and wet, and a quick look down revealed… ah. He had utterly crushed the champagne flute. What a normal reaction.

Virjo sighed. “Those flutes were our great-grandmother’s. Now the set’s unmatched.”   
Maul didn’t have a good response to that. “It was ugly.”   
“They _are_ ugly, aren’t they? I’ve always thought so.” Virjo said, snagging two flutes from a passing waiter, and handing Maul’s mangled one back. “Thank you, Herix, there’s a dear.”

“Did you only come here to discuss dishware with me?” Maul demanded. “What is your game, _prince_?”   
Virjo sipped his champagne, then swirled it around the glass, distractedly. “You made her smile again.”   
“ _What_?”   
“Jemini.” Virjo nodded towards the woman in question, who was talking to a senator. “You make her happy. You could _continue_ to make her happy.”   
“Speak plainly, before I cut out your tongue.” Maul snarled.

Virjo looked vaguely annoyed, and not at all threatened. “I want you to court my sister. Specifically, I want you to _marry_ her, but first you need to successfully court her in front of the… well, court.”   
“What makes you think I want to _marry_ her?” Maul demanded.   
“You crushed a 100 year old glass when I implied anyone else would?” Virjo pointed out.   
“I—what makes you think _she_ wants to marry _me_?”

“Have you been paying attention to the things I’ve said?” Virjo asked. “She _likes_ you. More than she likes anyone else.”   
“Why would I have to court her anyway?” Maul muttered, sipping his champagne.   
Virjo slung an arm around Maul’s shoulders, throwing his other wide. “For the _story_.”

“Story?” Maul demanded, shrugging him off.   
“Public opinion.” Virjo winked. “If there’s anything you need to know about Ryeesha, it’s that we love a good love story. Imagine; a tall, mysterious stranger sweeps in—"  
“I’m already here.”   
“—And captures the heart of the lost princess—”   
“She’s already here too.”   
“—and eventually wins her hand in marriage.” Virjo finished lamely. “Either that, or an elopement, but no one is going to believe that Mother and Father would _ever_ say no to her, so it’s not as fun.”

Maul glanced over to Normsag and Kaiydon. Kaiydon was usually sequestered in her rooms, and even now, her chest shook with a poorly concealed cough. They had been welcoming, kind even, but their eyes always slid off of him to her. Or each other. He simply wasn’t _important_ enough for them to worry about. He didn’t care about them either.

“Does she know you’re planning this?” Maul finally asked, turning to look at Virjo.   
Virjo, much like Jemini, had large, innocent looking eyes. Unlike Jemini, he wasn’t good at getting the rest of his face to cooperate.

“It’s a surprise.” Virjo finally muttered, breaking.   
Maul barked a bitter laugh. “A Sith fiancé isn’t a _pleasant_ surprise, boy. Are you trying to make a fool of me in front of her?”   
“I am going to _slam_ my _head_ against the wall. I am not a good liar, Maul! I am just trying to set you up with my sister—who you’re already _with_!—permanently!” Virjo growled, clearly annoyed.   
Maul thought Virjo looked rather like the tiny hound he’d seen in the marketplace who barked ineffectually at everyone who passed by. He narrowly resisted the urge to pat Virjo on the head.

“What would I have to do?” Maul finally asked.   
Virjo explained Ryeeshan courtship, and Maul listened. He wouldn’t have to fight other suitors to the death, because the Ryeeshans were soft and squishy-hearted, unlike the Dathomirians. Honestly, all of this sounded very stupid, but he would do it. For _her_.

The first task was to ask her to dance. Three times. (This wasn’t an official part, but Virjo said that Maul needed to make himself more ‘visible’, as though anyone was missing the Zabrak in the middle of the room.)

He downed his drink, took a deep breath, and strode onto the dance floor. The waltz ended, and some jumped up Ryeeshan _baby_ tried to get in his way. Maul elbowed him out of the way, coming face to face with--   
“Jemini.” He said, sounding more strained than he wanted to.   
She smiled at him, real and genuine. “Maul! I was hoping I’d see you. Do you want to dance?”

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak, and she took his hand, pulling herself flush against him. He didn’t know why he was acting like a child with his first crush, he had touched more of her than her hands with less than cloth between them, but this, this was _more_ somehow.

“Where have you been hiding all night?” Jemini asked, big blue eyes looking up at him.   
He spun her mechanically, glad that dancing had been drilled into him somewhere along the line. “Against the wall.”   
“No one caught your fancy?” She asked too casually, eyes darting to his face, then away again.   
“You did.” He said, before clearing his throat. “I’ve been watching you all night.”

“Did you like what you saw?”   
Of course he did. She was dressed in a champagne coloured strapless gown. The only thing he _didn’t_ like was that it was also largely backless, and he had seen far too many people glancing at her exposed skin. And all the freckles he had traced in the dark, all her constellations he had kissed… they were all on display. He thought that he should slaughter everyone who leered at her for the insult, she was _his._  
“You look pretty.” He said, which was effusive for him.

She pouted. “Just pretty?”   
“Gorgeous. Radiant. I want to take you back to your room and peel you out of that dress.” He purred, taking a moment to curl a stray lock of hair around his finger.   
Jemini licked her lips. “I’m sure we could sneak off, soon…”

And by the Force, he wanted to. He wanted to bury himself in her right then and there, hear her gasps, feel her grab at his horns to hold on, and to make him look up at her.   
But no, he had to be _good_ , so he could hoard her to himself _later_. “I want to dance with you first, Jedi.”   
She blinked at him. “You… do?”   
“Three dances.” He added.

She bit her lip. “And then we can sneak away?”   
He spun them both, his arm having snaked down to her waist, keeping her close. “Then we can do whatever you want, Jemini.”   
She smirked. “Twice?”   
“You are truly insatiable.” He growled, nipping at her ear. She sighed, and he could practically _taste_ her. His own little Jedi.

They danced twice more, then she pulled him into a closet to make good on her promise. They were forced to emerge far too quickly for either’s liking, but he still smirked to himself. She hadn’t done that with anyone else, he had been watching. She was his.

The first real task was to ask her to the Water-Rise Gardens. A quirk of the Force had the water go _up_ instead of down, and it was the standard place to declare intentions of courtship.

He had, of course, familiarized himself with her schedule. (She was the most interesting person there. He did, however, appreciate how the Ryeeshans were… _used_ to him, without fear stinking them all up. They did what he wanted, with minimal threatening, which was much easier. This is what he used to believe being a Sith Lord would be like—the world at his fingertips, just _there_ while he relaxed. Being able to feel safe. But, this didn’t change the fact that she was the _best_ one.)

She had finally emerged from her stupid government discussion. (Sidious was kriffing things up again. Government _solved_ , that’s what Sidious always did.) Maul jumped down from the rafters where he had been cleaning his lightsaber. Jemini didn’t bat an eye.   
“Will you go to the Water-Rise Gardens with me?” He blurted out before she could _distract_ him with her Jedi wiles.

Jemini stared at him. “I… yes. Now?”   
“Now is good.” Maul confirmed. “You hate talking to the regional elders anyway. You’ll be happy to blow them off.”   
Jemini brightened. “You remembered!”   
Maul scoffed. “It’s not hard to remember things about you.”   
She hummed contentedly. “Like my schedule? The thing I have trouble remembering off the top of my head?”

“The Sith are simply more organized than the Jedi.” He lied, offering her his hand.   
“Do you know where you’re going?” She asked, smirking.   
He paused. “Well, how about you tell me the directions, so I can check it’s the same place?”   
His little Jedi had an evilly gleeful smile on her face. “You don’t know where it is.”   
“I know where it is! I just want to make sure _you_ know where it is.”

Jemini laughed. At him! Scourge of the galaxy! (Admittedly, it was more of a giggle, and it was very cute, but that was _not the point_.)  
He glared at her.   
“You know, it’s okay to not know things.” She smiled at him. “But Force, you’re stubborn.”

Maul rolled his eyes. “I don’t know why I put up with your sass.”   
“You know you care.”   
His breath hitched in his throat. He did, and she had caught him. However, she was already walking away. He followed.

The Gardens were lovely, and he made sure to make several rounds with her, so that all and sundry could see his claim to her. The water spouts were lovely, but his eyes kept straying to her.   
But really, what he treasured most from the experience was how, in front of the last water spout, he had finally given in and pulled her into a gentle kiss. He cupped her face in his hands, ever so gentle, because kriff it. He could admit by now that she was the centre of his universe, and infinitely precious. He was a Sith to his core, but he could be gentle. For her.

The second courtship ritual involved getting a flower from a volcano. Most Ryeeshans (soft creatures) were content to buy them these days. Maul found this stupid, and would thus prove his worth as a mate by fetching the flower himself. This took longer than he was expecting, and he spent two days and nights in the wilderness, missing her the whole time. He finally found the flower, and popped it in a stasis field he had brought. There. The perfect flower for his gemstone. He finally returned, and immediately headed to where he knew she was meant to be (dressing for a formal dinner that he was planning to avoid).

He knocked on the door, because he still wasn’t _rude_ , dammit.   
“Come in.” Jemini called.   
He poked his head in. She was sitting at her vanity, not fully dressed yet. He frowned. At this point in her schedule, she should be moving onto makeup already.

“Oh, Bunty, can you zip me up please?” She asked softly.   
He wasn’t Bunty, but he acquiesced, cringing as he noticed that he left sooty fingerprints on her zipper. (It was a very _active_ volcano.)   
She gave a sigh, then moved her hair listlessly, accidentally catching sight of him in the mirror. She whipped around, nearly hitting him in the process.

“You’re back!” She said, launching herself at him.   
He caught her, burying his nose in her sunshine hair and breathing her in.   
Then she pulled away. “You didn’t say good-bye, I thought…!”   
Maul could feel his Jedi’s anger in the Force, heady and strong. What a Sith she would be, if she gave in to it!

“I was always intending to return.” He said.   
Apparently this was the wrong thing to say, because her anger dimmed a bit. She buried her face in his neck and held onto him, heedless of the dirt and soot and Force knows what else.   
“I thought you didn’t want me anymore.” She muttered. “I thought… I thought you left to go back to your vision of the galaxy, or whatever.”

Maul considered this. The idea of revenge was no longer as… _satisfying_. Yes, he wouldn’t say no to killing Kenobi and ruling the galaxy, but it wasn’t as much of a need anymore. Politics were boring, and he didn’t think that Jemini would like being Empress very much. And any daydreams about ruling the galaxy weren’t _satisfying_ without her there; in a throne by his side, or maybe in his lap, draped in silks… he was getting off track.

“Not without you.” He finally said. “Not alone. …besides, I need you to handle the politics.”   
Jemini gave a watery laugh. “I hate politics.”   
“I still don’t know why you can’t just kill everyone who disagrees with you.” He replied flippantly, because that always made her smile and shake her head.   
Instead, she hugged him harder. “I missed you. So so much.”

Hesitantly, he wrapped his arms around her. “And… I missed you too.”   
“Never leave me again.” She worded it like an order, but he could hear the plea. So, his little Jedi _was_ learning to deal in absolutes. He’d make a Sith of her yet. …maybe not entirely. Sith didn’t really seem… happy. But less of a Jedi.   
He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Never, my gemstone.”   
She pulled away again, to look up at him. “Gemstone?”

“You are precious.” He shrugged and looked away, as though that made it less of a weak thing to say. His eyes quickly slid back to her, waiting for her rejection. It didn’t come.   
She gave him a sunshine smile. “I love it. I love…” She trailed off. Maul nodded gently. Love was weakness, it was understandable that she wouldn’t want to voice it. He finally remembered why he was there in the first place; the flower.

He retrieved the stasis container, and offered it to her.   
She gasped. “Maul, this is… do you know what this is?”   
“It’s a flower.” Maul said. Then he squinted at it. Had he gotten the wrong one? “Do you like it?”   
“I love it.” She replied. “May I wear it in my hair?”

He nodded jerkily. It didn’t match her dress that well, but it would show his claim, which was the important part. (That was also why he wanted a long-stemmed flower, which the vendors didn’t _have_ because they were _cowards_.) She had _accepted_ his claim. He wove it into her hair with clumsy, sooty fingers, and she didn’t stop smiling all night. (He did end up attending the dinner that he didn’t care about, after she practically shoved him in the shower while she readied herself.) She kept it on in bed, after she had shed everything else, including her makeup.

The third task was to make her a flower crown—or rather, to carve the likeness of one from wood. The Ryeeshans felt that the likeness of the living should be reflected in the dead, or whatever. Maul was of the opinion that they had worked out that flowers had a tendency to wilt while waiting for weddings.

Here was the problem; he could carve through combatants easily. He could not carve wood. Well, his knife gouged it, but it wasn’t… _nice_. It certainly wasn’t good enough to present to Jemini, let alone expect her to wear until the wedding cuffs were exchanged.

With a growl, he launched his latest attempt towards the other side of the room.   
“Knock knock.” Jemini said softly, having apparently let herself in. “What are you working on?”   
Maul scrambled to hide some of his better bits of wood. “Nothing!”   
“…you didn’t show up to lunch.” Jemini said, clearly not believing him. She tried to peer around him, and he moved in front of her.

“I’m busy.”   
“Doing nothing?” She tried to smile, but then sighed. “Maul, I have something to tell you.”   
It felt like she had reached into his chest and was squeezing his heart in her fist. He motioned for her to continue.   
Jemini twisted the edge of her tunic nervously. “I… I know you’ve just been… having fun.”

He hadn’t even murdered anyone recently, what was she talking about?   
“But I… oh kriff, how do I… it looks like you’ve been courting me.”   
“Yes—”   
She steamrolled right past him. “And I liked it! I really, really liked it. But that’s-that’s not fair to you. Because I know you don’t… _want_ me like that. So the walk in the gardens, the flower, it… I’m sorry. I should have told you sooner.”

Maul stared at her. “So you’re rejecting me?”   
“No!” Jemini said quickly. “I just… I just wanted you to know, that um… that I… agh this isn’t going to plan. I love you. But I know you don’t love me. So… you should probably stop spending time around me, or people are going to get the wrong idea.”   
“The wrong idea.” Maul repeated, narrowing his eyes.

Jemini sighed, and looked up at him. Tears were welling in those eyes. “That you want to court me.”   
“I do want to court you.”   
“I know you don’t…” She trailed off, looking at him, wide-eyed. “What did you say?”   
“Do you think a Sith Lord would lower himself to _carpentry_ if there wasn’t a kriffing reason?” Maul demanded, stepping away from his desk so she could see it.

“But… it was just… casual for you?” She said quietly.   
“ _When_ did I say that?”   
“You keep calling me a Jedi! You-you hate all Jedi—”   
“Only the Sith deal in absolutes.” Maul said, in a bored tone. “That sounds like an absolute you just gave me.”

She stared at him, and he sighed, stepping closer. “You’re… not like most of the other Jedi. You’re not a Jedi anymore, for starters.”   
“You never said anything.” She finally breathed.   
Maul scowled. “I climbed a kriffing volcano for you.”   
“I thought that was for fun. And you brought me back a souvenir.” She admitted, colouring slightly.

Maul threw his hands in the air. “I walked around the gardens with you!”   
“I thought that was for tourism!”   
“ _When have I ever expressed any interest in tourism?_ ” Maul demanded, aghast.

Jemini looked at him, then broke down laughing. “Oh-oh my. We really were fools, weren’t we?”   
“Speak for yourself.” Maul said, glancing at her. “…so, are you rejecting me?”   
Jemini smiled her sunshine smile at him. “Not at all. I’m hereby formally accepting your suit.”   
Maul released a tension he didn’t know he was carrying. “Good.”

Jemini reached up, and pulled him into a kiss, which was even better. The bitey sort of kiss, which left him breathless and immediately searching for the nearest flat surface to have her on.   
“I love you.” She said as she pulled away. “So, so much.”   
But strangely, Maul didn’t feel weakness at all. “I love you too.” He admitted softly.   
Her sunshine smile turned into a full on nova.

This woman would be the death of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I shamelessly stole the panda lily thing from Avatar. 
> 
> What can I say? Ryeeshans love them some flowers.


	7. After (III)

Obi-Wan Kenobi was in a very plain room, with a rather large window. It was a nice enough room—sparse by Ryeeshan standards, palatial by Tatooine’s.

There was a bed, a rug, a wardrobe, an en-suite bathroom, and working lights. He was able to wash the sand off and put on a non-descript tunic that was _about_ his size. He could wander the grounds, with an escort, or go to town. He could have any manner of books brought to him if he asked nicely where to find them. Really, it was more than he needed.

But;

Luke had been led away elsewhere. Vader would be searching for them. _Maul was prowling around_. Clearly, he had bewitched or coerced Jemini somehow. Her own guard had turned against her, siding with him. She was preg—hang on. How was she pregnant if Obi-Wan had _personally_ removed Darth Maul’s ability to, ah, inseminate someone? Clearly he would know—and react badly if the child wasn’t his?

He was interrupted from his thoughts by a knock on the door.   
“Sir? The queen wants to see you.” Someone called from the other side.   
Perfect. “Thank you.” Obi-Wan said, opening the door and following the guard.   
The guard shifted awkwardly. “We’re a peaceful people. Want to think the best of everybody. But… if you hurt the queen… it’s not going to go well for you.”

“I’m not planning on hurting her.” Obi-Wan assured him.   
The guard shot him a long look, but didn’t reply.   
They walked in silence to a different part of the palace, far grander than where Obi-Wan had been put. In fact, it was rather reminiscent of where he and Jemini had been placed last time they were there together.

The guard gave a sharp turn, then knocked on a door. Personally, Obi-Wan couldn’t quite tell it from others, but that was neither here nor there.   
“Enter.” Jemini called softly.

The guard motioned for Obi-Wan to enter alone, so he did. It was a conference room, with a long wooden table and many windows. There, bathed in the sunlight, was Jemini.   
“I hope you don’t mind if I don’t rise.” She grinned at him. “Have a seat, Obi-Wan.”   
He sat near her, watching the light stream in and hit her hair.

“You look wonderful, Jemini.” He said, quite honestly.   
“Pregnancy does that.” She laughed, rubbing her stomach fondly.   
“How… is it Maul’s?”   
She looked up sharply. “Of course the baby’s Maul’s. And our daughter.”

“Daughter?” Obi-Wan repeated.   
“Lipra, she’s three.” Jemini said. She smiled softly. “She has his eyes.”   
Obi-Wan felt as though freezing water had been dropped over him. “Three years old and she has the eyes of a Sith?”   
Jemini narrowed her eyes at him. “She’s not… it changes your genetics, when you use the Force like that. She’s not a Sith or a Jedi, she’s just… she’s my baby.”

Obi-Wan sighed. “And her father is a Sith?”   
“Her father is a Dathomirian.” Jemini corrected. “If you want the discussion of how Maul and I have children, it involves DNA swabs and artificial insemination—”   
“Jemini, what are you _doing_ with him?!” Obi-Wan interrupted. “He-he killed Master Qui-Gon! And Satine! He’ll kill _you_!”

“If he hasn’t done it by now, I don’t think he ever will.” She said softly, placing a hand on her stomach.   
“Don’t you care about what he’s done?” Obi-Wan demanded.   
Jemini sighed. “My marriage is my business, Obi-Wan.”   
“Not if he’s _tricked_ you, with some Sith workings!”   
“He didn’t. He was there when I was… when I was grieving Talkaye, and Master Windu, and…” She swallowed. “We grieved together.”

“I don’t know what he’s told you, but Darth Maul has never grieved for any Jedi.”   
“No, but he was grieving his brother at the same time. He’s… witty, and honest in his own way. He makes me smile, Obi. He… he _wanted_ me. He still does.”   
Obi-Wan swallowed. “You could have had any man in the galaxy.”   
Jemini shrugged, and looked at him almost sadly. “Could I, Obi-Wan?”

“Are you saying you married Darth Maul because I _rejected_ you?” Obi-Wan demanded.   
“No!” Jemini snapped. “He’s not a replacement for you!”   
“Then what?!”   
She paused for a moment. “I always thought… when we were younger… that we would end up together. Especially after… we did. You know? But we didn’t. And when I needed support, I just…” She sighed, and looked away, drumming her fingers on the table.

“I chose the Jedi over you.”   
“It wasn’t _just_ the Jedi.” She snapped, looking back at him. “It was also Satine Kryze.”   
“Did you take up with her murderer out of _jealousy_ then?” Obi-Wan hissed, unable to control himself.   
Jemini looked back at him calmly. “No. I started a relationship with Maul because he wanted _me_. Not conditionally, not _additionally_. He just wanted me. He was—he _is_ —proud to be with me, in public. That’s just the _basis_ of our relationship. It isn’t everything, but it’s important.”

“Why him?” Obi-Wan demanded.   
“Because he didn’t kill me.”   
“ _Cad Bane_ hasn’t killed you yet either.” Obi-Wan spat. “Would you take up with him?”   
“No, because I’m married. Obi-Wan, what he did was… unfortunate. We don’t really talk about it, even now. Just like we don’t talk about his ten years on Lotho Minor. But why do you think my hands are clean?”

“Are you referring to the war? That was different.”   
“It wasn’t. You’re upset about the deaths of Master Jinn and Duchess Kryze, and you have a right to be. But every person we killed in the war was someone’s family, someone’s lover.” Jemini said firmly.   
They were both silent for a moment, before she added, “I’m not jealous of Duchess Kryze. I… I was upset. When we were younger. And you _orbited_ her, after I gave you everything. You would have left the order for her. And that hurt, because you wouldn’t do that for me. Because for you, the experience of _me_ was intrinsically tied to the _Jedi_ , even after I left.”

“You’ve become wiser since you left.” Obi-Wan said.   
“Ryeesha has been kind to me.” Jemini shrugged. “As Tatooine has not to you. You’re quicker to anger.”   
“Maul brings out the worst in me.”   
“Well then, it’s a good thing that you’re not the one married to him.” Jemini flashed him a quick grin, before taking his hand. “I’m sure, in another life, it would have been you.”   
Obi-Wan shrugged. “Maybe. But maybe then he would have killed you instead of Satine.”

Jemini withdrew her hand. “Maybe. But quite frankly, I didn’t invite you here to discuss my marriage. Obi-Wan, we have been unable to reach the Lars moisture farm. Their neighbours believe them all dead—including Luke. What happens now?”   
“I had plans to go to Kashyyk, and blend in with the rebels there. But it’s no place for a little boy, and Luke would stand out.”

“We would be happy to keep him.” Jemini said softly. “And you are welcome to stay as well.”   
“Thank you.” Obi-Wan said softly. “While we’re here, I’d like to see you more. As friends.”   
Jemini smiled at him. “I’d like that.”   
“Back to Luke… Vader won’t give up now that he knows the boy is alive.” Obi-Wan said.

Jemini bit her lip. “You know we’re beholden to the Empire.”   
“I know.”   
“But… I would try to buy you and Maul time to escape with the children. If they come.”   
Obi-Wan wrinkled his nose. “We’d kill each other immediately.”   
“Separately.” Jemini clarified. “Though you may need to knock him out and load him in an auto-piloted ship with Lipra. He won’t leave me if he has anything to say about it.”   
Obi-Wan had some _thoughts_ about that, but clearly Jemini didn’t agree, given her soft smile.

“So I should be ready to run with Luke at any given moment?” Obi-Wan said instead.   
“Maybe.” Jemini sighed. “We’ll try to keep apprised of where Vader is, but taking too much interest might tip him off to something being wrong.”   
“He’ll kill you if he finds you.” Obi-Wan hissed.

Jemini shrugged. “I don’t think he will.”   
“Jemini, he’s not like Maul, who you’ve tamed somehow—”   
She laughed. “I have done no such thing to my husband.”   
“Vader will kill you because of who you were.” Obi-Wan finished.

“Who I was isn’t who I am.” Jemini said simply. “Vader knows that better than most. Besides, I have complied so far.”   
“Complied?”   
“Obi, can’t you feel it? I cut myself off from the Force.”   
“Entirely?”

“Entirely.” She agreed. “It was one of the Emperor’s… _conditions_ after the war. The Jedi are gone, after all.”   
“So Vader might not… recognize you.” Obi-Wan hedged, hopefully.   
Jemini shrugged. “Maybe. Hopefully. But if it buys you both more time to get the children out, that’s what matters.”   
“How can you be so calm about possibly dying?!” Obi-Wan demanded.

“Because I was still a Jedi for years. I got used to the idea of dying.” Jemini said simply. “I don’t want to, of course. But if I can buy you two time, that’s… that’s what matters.”   
“You’re willing to give your life for this?!”   
“What do you think will happen if the Emperor gets his hands on Darth Maul?” Jemini finally snapped. “Or Vader? What do you think either of them will do with a Force-sensitive little girl, the perfect age to be molded into a weapon? You took a child, but you still don’t know what it is to be a parent! It’s _about_ attachment, and using it to protect them!”

Obi-Wan was silent for a minute. “That’s… very non-Jedi of you.”   
“I’m not a Jedi. I keep telling you.”   
“I know. I know.” Obi-Wan sighed. “It’s just… difficult.”   
He was cut off from saying something else by feeling that familiar presence in the Force. Like being fed something hot and sour. Now that he knew what it was—now that Maul wasn’t _hiding himself_ —he could sense it drawing nearer.

Underneath, he could also feel Luke, sweet and clean.   
Obi-Wan stilled. “He’s coming.”   
Jemini lit up. “They’re back already?”   
Obi-Wan nodded hesitantly, and Jemini got up for the door, moving faster than Obi-Wan thought possible in her condition.

Obi-Wan pushed down the sour feeling of jealousy, seeing her so happy. It wasn’t good for a Jedi to have these thoughts.


	8. Before (IV)

Virjo was going to leave. Rin Ta Cris had already taken him to the Water-Rise Gardens, and bought him a flower the same day. Jemini’s only saving grace was that the Twi’leks hadn’t emphasized wood-carving, and Rin had high standards.

Virjo was going to leave, and she would be the only heir. Her mother’s health was failing, and there had already been talk of her parents retiring to the country to live out their days together in peace. They thought she was ready.

But she was going to die.

She remembered the visions she had once had, years ago, of being impaled by Darth Maul. Lately, she would wake up panting, from dreams where the only thing she remembered were intense golden eyes. Sith eyes. _His eyes_. Her future hadn’t changed, had it?

It would kill Kaiydon to lose another child, and space was treacherous. At best, Virjo wouldn’t hear of it quickly enough to get back, and Ryeesha would descend into panic. Her aunt had been arrested years ago, but her cousin would make a bid for the throne. Conelan wasn’t good for Ryeesha, a bitter politician to the core, who had never forgiven the main branch for Sheila’s imprisonment.

Jemini shuddered at the thought. No, she needed to leave before Virjo could. It was cruel, to disappear on them again, but hopefully they would understand. She got out of bed, padding across the room. For a moment, she considered taking her Jedi robes; but then she thought that she might as well die an individual, ready for her funeral.

She took a comfortable purple dress instead, one that always made her feel pretty. It had a flared skirt, the kind she liked to twirl when no one was looking. She took a matching sweater and pair of boots as well, then pulled her hair up into a simple updo. She would die Jemini Erebai, on her own terms.

The Force hummed inside her, tugging her along. There was an abandoned scout ship that Normsag used to fly that would withstand space. It was still kept in a good condition, since it was Normsag’s baby as much as her or Virjo, even if Normsag wouldn’t fly it anymore.

A bag of supplies acquired later, she climbed into the ship, and lifted off, letting the Force lead her. She exited a hyperspace lane a short time later, near Mandalore. Jemini took a deep breath; it was faster than she’d expected. But apparently he’d remained close to his former seat of power. She landed on an asteroid, following the Force inside.

At least it had a breathable atmospheric shell, however small the asteroid was itself. And it wasn’t a labyrinth by any means—it was just a simple walk inside. And there he was, sitting by a fire, staring into the flames. He wasn’t even aware of her presence yet—all she could feel of him in the Force was his resting presence.

“Hello.” She said, causing him to look up.   
Instantly, she felt his presence around her solidify with his intent, hot and thick, nearly choking her.   
“Who are you, and what are you doing here?” He growled, rising.   
He was just a man.

Oh, he had horns, and the red and black of his skin, and he _loomed_ over her, more wiry than she had thought, but he was a man all the same.   
“My name is Jemini Erebai, and I’m here to die.” She tilted her chin up to look him in the eye.

He stared at her in disbelief for a minute before barking out a laugh. “And you came to me?”   
She nodded once.   
“Well, I’ve decided that I _don’t_ want to help you. Run along.” He bared his teeth, but it was no smile.   
Jemini stepped closer. “You’re Darth Maul?”   
He frowned at her. “Obviously.”

But she also caught an undercurrent of sadness as he said that.   
“What would you prefer I call you, then?” She blurted out.   
He glared at her. “How did you… oh. Not just a pretty little thing, then. You’re a _Jedi_.” He spat the word.   
She nodded once, and slipped her bag off of her shoulder, before kneeling, head bowed.

“What are you doing?” Maul demanded.   
“Would you prefer I look at you as you kill me?” Jemini asked, looking up at him.   
Maul grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet. “I already said I wouldn’t. Now _leave_ , before I change my mind.”   
“That’s not much incentive then, is it?” Jemini snarked back.

Maul stepped away from her, growling. “You are the _most_ infuriating woman I have ever met. Why are you making yourself _my_ problem?”   
“I had visions in the Force of you killing me.” Jemini said. “Years ago. And I’ve dreamed of you recently.”   
“Well, I haven’t dreamed of you, and I don’t care if the Force said I was going to _marry_ you. Piss off.” Maul snarled.

“Ah, yes, I’m interrupting your very important business.” Jemini snarked, throwing her arms wide to gesture to the asteroid around them.   
“I’m _grieving_!” Maul roared, before shutting his mouth tightly, and turning away. “Now go.”   
“I’m sorry. Who was it?” Jemini asked softly.   
“What do you care?”

“I’m your problem until you kill me. Might as well use me as a free ear until then.” Jemini replied.   
“My brother.” Maul said shortly, shooting a look at her over his shoulder.   
“Do you want to talk about it?”   
“No. Leave.”   
“Then I’m going to talk about my own grief.” Jemini said. “I lost my padawan, Talkaye. She was like a sister to me. Everyone I talked to just kept talking about… _attachment_ , and it made me want to scream. There was nothing about who she was, before… well, you know. What was your brother like?”

Maul paused for a moment, before turning back to her. “Strong. Loyal. …he had another brother. _We_ had another brother. Feral. I never got to meet him. But sometimes, in quiet moments, Savage would talk about him. I don’t think he was used to being the little brother. He kept—he kept trying to get me to do things. Sleep. Eat. All I cared about was revenge, but he kept me alive to try and get there.”

Jemini reached down to her bag, wincing as she strained the arm Maul had grabbed.   
His eyes darted to her arm. “You’re hurt.”

“You grabbed me.” She replied.   
“You were kneeling and talking about death.” Maul snapped, before leaning back. “You’re not a typical Jedi.”   
“I left the order.” Jemini shot back, kneeling and rifling through her bag. “So, do you want to keep talking?”

“Why do you want me to kill you?”   
“I don’t. I just don’t want you to kill me later.” Jemini huffed, tossing him a water canteen. “This way it’s on my terms.”   
Maul opened it and sniffed it suspiciously. “So you came here to try and change your fate?”   
“You know I didn’t.”

“What’s to stop me from stealing your ship and supplies and leaving?” Maul asked, sipping the water tentatively.   
“That’s another way of killing me. I’d prefer a quick death, but after that, go ahead.”   
“Why did you bring supplies on a suicide mission?” Maul demanded.   
Jemini looked at him. “I didn’t know how long it would be.”

“What, your crusade to annoying me into killing you?” Maul snapped.   
Jemini shrugged. “I thought I might need to offer you incentive. Some supplies for your journey would work.”   
Maul felt cold. “You don’t know me at all.” He would have thrown the canteen at her, but he really did need the water.   
“No, I don’t. So, tell me about yourself? Tell me more about your brother? What’s your favorite memory with him?”

“Why do you want to know?”   
“It helps. To talk about it, I mean.” Jemini said. “I didn’t… no one really understood what I meant when I tried to say that my fondest memory of Talkaye was when she was little, and I first met her. The Temple had these puzzles, that you were supposed to unlock with the Force—”   
“I’m aware of Force puzzles.” Maul said.   
Jemini grinned at him. “She was able to do the one about the rancor through the maze first try.”

“You must have been proud.” Maul hesitantly offered. “A strong apprentice indeed.”   
Jemini smiled to herself. “She couldn’t do it again on command. Just the once, when no one was watching but me. She… trusted me. Even then. The trust between master and padawan is… I miss it. I miss her.”   
“Weak.” Maul commented, sitting next to her. “But I understand. My brother was my apprentice, and I feel… unfulfilled… without him.”

Jemini looked at him, and he narrowed his eyes. “Mention this to anyone, Jedi, and I will slaughter you. Slowly. Blood all over your precious… you’re not wearing Jedi robes.”   
“No. I wanted to die as Jemini.”   
“Well, you made your delivery, and I won’t kill you, so shoo.” Maul waved at her dismissively.   
“I don’t want you to walk it back later.” Jemini huffed.

“Then I swear by the Force, by my brother, by _anything_ and _everything_ , that I will not kill you.” Maul snapped. “You’re far too annoying. Now leave.”   
Jemini looked at him. “Come with me?”   
“No. Go away.”

“You really want to stay here and _rot_?” She asked in disbelief.   
“It’s what I deserve!” He snarled, before looking away. “You… have a way of drawing inconvenient truths out of me, Jedi.”   
“That’s what friends do.”   
“Friends?” Maul scoffed. “We’re not _friends_. Even if we hadn’t just met, you’re a Jedi. I’m a Sith.”

“Why are you a Sith?” Jemini asked.   
“I just am!”   
“…well, maybe you could consider doing something else.” Jemini said softly. “Living for yourself, the way your brother wanted you to.”   
Maul whipped around. “Do not take his words in vain!”

“And don’t throw yourself away in grief!” Jemini shot back.   
Maul scoffed. And then he scoffed again, because the first one wasn’t enough. “Didn’t you come here to die by my hand? Led by the Force? How _dare_ you lecture me about throwing yourself away.”   
Jemini glared at him. “You are the most annoying—fine. Whatever. You have a point.”

Maul smirked. “I often do, little Jedi.”   
“Don’t call me that.”   
“Why? What are you going to do to stop me?” Maul grinned. “You’re not armed, are you? Perhaps you should just _leave_ —”   
“I’m not leaving you here alone.” Jemini snapped. “You don’t deserve that.”

“Who are you to say what I deserve?!” He growled, his mood shifting in an instant.  
“The person who’s been where you are!” She shot back. “Now stop pretending you’re the only person in the galaxy who has ever lost someone and let me _help_ you!”   
“I don’t need your help!”   
“Well I’m offering it anyway!”

He leaned back, eyes blazing. “What’s your game, Jedi?”   
“You’re…” Jemini waved her hand vaguely. “More like me than I thought. And I had help when I needed it, or at least… I had people who wanted to help. You deserve that too.”   
“It won’t make me _good_. I won’t don your little brown robes and carry a blue saber.” Maul snapped.

“That’s _not_ what I’m asking!” Jemini threw her hands in the air. “By the Force, you’re impossible!”   
“So are you!” Maul growled.   
“Just… come back with me, to Ryeesha. You can travel wherever you want from there, do whatever you want. But I won’t be able to live with myself if I leave you here.”   
“I _fail_ to see how your stupid Jedi feelings are _my_ problem.” Maul said stiffly, crossing his arms.

Jemini took a deep breath, pasted on a smile, then reached into her pack.   
“What are you doing?” Maul asked, despite himself.   
“Sabacc.” Jemini replied, shaking the deck to punctuate her point. “We’re going to be here for a while.”

“Because you’re the most stubborn woman in the galaxy?” Maul rolled his eyes.   
“Because you’re the most bullheaded man in the galaxy, yes.” Jemini said sweetly. “If I win, you come with me to Ryeesha, and let me get you a hot meal and a real bed before you go running off to take over the galaxy.”

“And what if I win?” Maul asked softly, looking at her.   
Her eyes almost glowed in the firelight, and the Force pushed at him, reminding him about that _dream_ and those blue eyes. But that had been a long time ago, and it certainly wasn’t about her. No. Not at all.   
The Jedi’s tongue darted out to wet her lips, and he tracked the motion. Ten years. Ten years without the touch of a woman, and _now_ he was acting like some kind of teenager with his first crush.

“What do you want?” She asked.   
Maul considered this. There was very much something he wanted—something that would make her _go away_. Hardened whores had balked, and he had never asked again. _Too intimate_ they had said. (For him, went unspoken.) Surely, the Jedi, who thought him a murderer—which he _was_ , but he usually had a _reason_ —would deny him, and he would use that to leverage her _off_ the asteroid and leave him alone.

“If I win, I want a kiss.” He finally said. “Not something chaste. I want a lover’s kiss, Jedi.”   
She flushed, prettily, and opened her mouth—to refuse him. He knew it.  
“Alright.” She said, beginning to shuffle.   
He stared at her. _Yes_? What did she mean, _yes_?

“You do know that we may have to play multiple games so I’m satisfied.” She said, eyes darting up to meet his.   
“You mentioned Ryeesha, are you from there?” He asked mildly as she dealt the cards.   
“Originally.” She answered primly.   
“I can satisfy a Ryeeshan.”

“You’re very sure of yourself.”   
“You’re not the first Ryeeshan I’ve met.” He said, before twisting his mouth. She didn’t need to know that he’d gone looking for the eyes, when he was _young_ and stupid (and whole, and not a monster…) and hadn’t found them then. It was cruel of her to come now, when he wasn’t looking at all. It was cruel of her to pretend that she… _wanted_ him when he knew what he was, how others saw him.

She finally dealt the cards. “Maybe satisfied was the wrong word. I’m not going to stop until I get what I want.”   
“Spoiled.”   
“I _am_ a princess.” She said. (As though he was the kind of rake that made a point of deflowering princesses regularly! _As though she wanted_ —oh. She wanted the danger of a Sith. Crazy woman.)

“I don’t care.” Maul said. “I’m not going to be your toy.”   
She blinked at him. “I don’t want a toy.”   
And she was, once again, telling the truth. There wasn’t the sharp prick of a lie in the Force, just confusion and truth. Maul snarled wordlessly. She would break her word and then he would get her off. …off of his asteroid! Not… not the other way.

But what ended up happening was that the princess Jedi was a truly terrible sabacc player. He didn’t even need to cheat. It was almost like she _wanted_ to lose. But no, by the furrow in her brow, she was genuinely frustrated.

He won. Easily.   
“Now, are you an oathbreaker, Jedi? I won’t hold it against you if you are.”   
She frowned at him, laying down her own cards on the ground. “I never said I was.”   
He scoffed, turning to look at her properly—and realized just how close she was. And coming closer.

“I don’t want it said I forced a woman.” He snarled.   
“Who said I was being forced?”   
His mouth felt very dry, and he leaned back—only for her to move forward at the same time, and practically end up in his lap.

“Oops.” She muttered. “I guess I was just… clumsy.”   
“Clumsy.” He repeated, eyes flicking down to her lips. “Aren’t Jedi supposed to be graceful?”   
“Aren’t you supposed to be kissing me?” She challenged.   
“No. _You_ are supposed to be kissing _m—_ mmph.” She had leaned forward, pressing her lips to his, and had cut him off.

Her lips were warm, and soft, and she was very much trying to coax his own mouth open with her tongue. He gave in, and she sucked his bottom lip into her mouth, scraping gently with her teeth, before releasing it again. His tongue met hers, and she gave a satisfied little hum that he wanted to hear again, before detaching.   
“We weren’t done.” Maul snapped, knowing he already had more than what they had agreed. Her weight in his lap was warm, and comforting, and soft, and…

Jemini smirked at him. “No. We’re not.”   
He shivered as she moved to his neck, trailing kisses and bites alike down to his collarbone, which she sucked hard enough to leave a mark.   
He groaned, and she gave another satisfied hum, before she moved to place a gentle, fluttering kiss against his windpipe, and then pressed her lips to his again. He opened his mouth, and she gave in, before pulling away.

“ _Tease_.” He growled.   
She licked her lips. “You want more, you’ll have to win again.”   
He growled, wrapping his arms around her waist to lock her in place. “You dare to tell me what to do?”   
She exposed her throat. “Mm… _you_ could always kiss _me_.”

“Play your cards, woman.”   
She lost twice more before he let her win. Perhaps a warm bed and a cold shower would do him good if he let this Jedi past his shields like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The satisfaction comment is because Ryeeshans have higher libidos than most other Galactic species.


	9. After (IV)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was SUPPOSED to be about Maul and Obi-Wan... talking. Instead, I decided to contrast angry Maul with sweet Maul, because he is different around different people. 
> 
> And also because I prefer writing Maul/Jemini to Obi-Wan getting dunked on.

Maul had been furious the first time Kenobi had walked in while the family sat down for dinner.

Lipra, his good girl, had eyed Kenobi suspiciously. Luke, who was indeed a good child, did the same. (He was not as suspicious as Maul would have liked, but they could work on that.) And Jemini—she had simply smiled and told him to pull up a chair.

Maul had glared at Kenobi all throughout dinner. What was the plan here? Was this his wife’s subtle way of saying that he could introduce the children to the Dathomirian way of life, and begin their weapons training? Was he allowed to dispatch Kenobi with a table knife?

Vaguely, he was aware of Jemini trying to brush her leg up against his, and ordinarily, he would take the invitation. But Kenobi was putting him off of his dinner. “Why are you _here_ , Kenobi?”   
“I was invited.”   
Maul stared at him. “You can’t possibly think I would break bread with you.”   
Jemini sighed, next to him. “It needs to be dealt with.”

“So you agree, I should stab him.” Maul nodded.   
“No.” Jemini replied. “I would prefer you didn’t.”   
“A quick death is better than he deserves!” Maul argued.   
“Is this really an appropriate conversation for the children?” Kenobi muttered, giving Luke a sideways glance.   
Jemini’s mouth was a thin line. “Right, talking with a mediator isn’t going to work. Take it outside, don’t kill each other, come to some sort of agreement that won’t end with you hunting him down in the middle of the night.”

Maul crossed his arms. “I would never kill Kenobi in his sleep.”   
“Not for any sense of honor.” Kenobi murmured.   
Maul shot him another death glare.   
Jemini waved a tired hand, and Maul’s heart lurched. He had exhausted her, when she was vulnerable. He would make it up to her later, whispering apologies for bothering her while he was covered in Kenobi’s blood.

“Don’t kill each other.” She said simply. “Come to an agreement where one of you won’t snap and go after the other for the foreseeable future.”   
Maul rose, leaning over to kiss her. “I will fight in your name and bring you victory.”   
She kissed him back. “No killing.”

Maul shot Kenobi an evil smile. “Oh? And what about _bisection_? It doesn’t have to be fatal, does it Kenobi?”   
Kenobi made a face back at him, like he had any right to do so.   
“What’s bisex-bisexu…” Lipra trailed off, making a face in concentration.   
“Cutting someone in half.” Jemini answered, before Lipra could barrel towards a misunderstanding. (Maul was already planning trials for anyone, regardless of gender, who wished to win his daughter’s hand. He would not settle for her having a weak spouse.)

Jemini turned to look at him. “The sooner you leave, the sooner you can come back. No weapons.”   
“I don’t need weapons.” Maul scoffed, but he was grinning. Oh, he would have his revenge.   
Kenobi rose as well, and Commander Keth led them out towards the palace gardens. “Right, please don’t mess things up too bad, Jirthon is halfway through spring planting, and you’ll give her a panic attack if she sees you’ve destroyed her garden.”

Maul nodded. Jirthon was a good ally, willing to loan him many reference flowers during his courtship of Jemini. She was not a warrior, but he respected how she had a warrior’s dedication to her own craft. She was also very patient with Lipra’s questions, not just because Lipra was a princess. So, no, Maul wouldn’t go out of his way to destroy Jirthon’s gardens.

Keth nodded back, and then stepped back.   
“So, what happens now? We try to kill each other like civilized beings?” Kenobi asked lightly, though his eyes were hard.   
“No. Jemini said no killing.” (She said _nothing_ about maiming or serious injury. Maul was looking forward to this.)

“And you’ll listen to her?” Kenobi asked, watching Maul seriously. They began to circle each other.   
“She would be upset if her friend was killed.” Maul replied flippantly. He had finally decided that yes, his gemstone preferred _him_ over _Kenobi_ , partially because she seemed coolly detached in Kenobi’s presence, and screamed for _him_ when they were alone. (Screamed, and _begged_ , and was covered in his love-bites and claims, _his_ lovely gemstone.)

“You really do care about her.” Kenobi said in wonder, letting his guard drop for a moment.   
Maul immediately tackled him, towards the way they came from.   
“Sir, please warn me beforehand!” Commander Keth said. “I nearly choked on a candy!”   
Maul shot him as apologetic of a look as he could while trying to strangle Obi-Wan Kenobi with his bare hands.

Kenobi was turning a rather satisfying shade of purple when Maul felt the Force _grab_ and _throw_ him. He landed on a topiary that Lipra had specifically requested (a duckling, because _of course_ ), destroying it in the process.   
He scrambled out of the topiary and into the hedge of the hedge maze, knowing Kenobi would come after him. Soon enough, he felt the presence of Kenobi draw nearer, and hid his own accordingly.

“What are you doing here?” Kenobi asked. “Can Sith… you can’t _change_.”   
Maul waited until Kenobi passed, then left his hedge. “No? I wonder what you’ll do when confronted with Vader again? Run and run and run, forever, like a coward?”   
Kenobi whipped around, but Maul was ready for him, and held his ground as the other man slammed into him.

“See, that’s what I could never _respect_ about you, Kenobi.” Maul growled through gritted teeth. “You never _confront_ anything.”   
“Funny how I’ve confronted you multiple times in the past, then.” Kenobi shot back. “After all, remember Florrum?”   
“I remember killing your friend.” Maul spat.

“You don’t regret _anything_ you’ve done, do you? How do you live with yourself?” Kenobi demanded.   
“For kriff’s sake, Kenobi! They weren’t innocent children—they were adults. They were capable of defending themselves, they simply _failed_. That’s the way of the world; the strong prevail and the weak don’t. You only care about my _crimes_ because they’ve inconvenienced you personally. Get off your moral high ground.”

“So you’d do it again?” Kenobi pushed, as they grappled.   
“In a heartbeat.” Maul spat.   
“Then why are you here?”   
“Because _she_ makes my heart beat.” Maul finally managed to wrench Kenobi’s arm, painfully. The Jedi gritted his teeth, but didn’t cry out. “And she doesn’t _want_ to be empress of the galaxy, even if I’ve imagined her as such more times than I can count.”

“And what happens when you get _bored_?”   
“Kenobi,” Maul said in a sing-song tone. “Am I to understand that you haven’t been thinking of anything but revenge on Vader in the last five years? How very Sith of you.”   
“As though you don’t want revenge!”   
“I promised I’d make it quick. Otherwise, you’re not worth enough effort. I’ve spent too long—and too much—toying with you instead of just killing you cleanly. That’s my fault.” Maul pulled harder, and grinned when he felt Kenobi’s shoulder _pop_ and Kenobi’s breath hitch as he stifled a scream.

Kenobi finally wrenched himself free, holding his dislocated shoulder with his good hand and breathing heavily. He turned to keep his eyes on Maul, backing up. “But you won’t kill me.”   
“Not until she allows me.” Maul confirmed, tucking his hands behind his back. “Or until she doesn’t care, and I can get away with it.”   
“That’s not going to happen.”   
“Probably not.” Maul agreed.

“So what happens now?” Kenobi demanded.   
Maul cocked his head. “Now? I was thinking I’d dislocate your leg. Not your left leg. Your right, so both sides of your body have been immobilized in some way. And then I’d leave you here, so you have to crawl your way back. Generous, I know, but I don’t have enough time to torture you the way I want to before it’s time for me to read Lipra a bedtime story.”   
Kenobi stared at him. “You… you’re a mess of contradictions.”

“A Jedi point of view. I am what I am.”   
Kenobi held up his free hand. “Wait. Wait. Vader will… he’ll come, eventually. And… we’ll both need to be alive, especially if Jem’s cut off from the Force.”   
Maul narrowed his eyes. _Jem_.   
“We’ll fight him together, like-like we did with Dooku. We need to fight together.” Kenobi pleaded.

Maul stepped forward, looking like he was considering it. “You make a good point Kenobi.”   
Kenobi’s face shuttered warily, which wasn’t helpful for him anyway, since Maul shot out a leg and knocked Kenobi over.   
“But Tatooine has made you sloppy.” Maul continued, leaning over and placing a boot on Kenobi’s chest. “It’s not even worth the effort to dispatch you further.”

“So, what then? We spar together more often?” Kenobi asked.   
Maul laughed. “Sparring? I suppose we could call it that. I prefer the term, ‘wife-sanctioned torment of you’. Maybe I’ll even let you keep up your little chats with my wife about how wicked I am.”   
“You know about those?”

“Kenobi,” Maul grinned. “Haven’t you heard that the key to a good marriage is _communication_? It’s not all animalistic sex and endless devotion to each other.”   
He pressed his boot down, and Kenobi gasped. “You’re starting to bore her, and annoy me. It’s not going to happen, Kenobi.”   
“Then why are you worried?” Kenobi choked out.

“I’m not.” Maul said coolly. “Like I said, I’m annoyed. She’s not your Jedi anymore. She’s _mine_. And if you can’t talk to her about anything other than _my_ marriage and how you don’t understand it, then I’m going to have to imagine that I’ll have to have a hand in it soon.”   
He withdrew the boot, and Kenobi sat up, coughing. “If you have nothing to worry about, I don’t see why it matters.”

“Because you are once again trying to ruin my life and undermine my authority, and I have already been gracious enough to decide not to kill you on sight.” Maul replied, bored. “I have already decided to work with you, up until your annoyance outweighs your usefulness. I suggest you find a hobby, Kenobi. The Jedi are gone, the galaxy has changed, and clinging to what used to be will only make you more grating than you are naturally.”

With that, he turned on his heel, and headed back up to the terrace.   
He paused in front of Keth. “Kenobi’s still in the garden. Please make sure he doesn’t stumble into one of the flowerbeds.”   
Keth saluted him. “Sir yes sir.”   
Maul patted his shoulder absent-mindedly. “Tell your aunt to have dinner with us sometime. I’d love to spar against her again.”

“I will pass that onto Aunt—Captain Marilize, sir.” Commander Keth stumbled, looking uncomfortable. “Um, sorry for the slip-up.”   
Maul shrugged. “It’s no skin off of my back, so long as _Aunt-Captain_ Marilize gets my message.”   
He cackled internally as Keth coloured, but nodded. Maul inclined his head, and returned to dinner.

The children were eating dessert, and his plate hadn’t been touched. He slid into his seat, and pressed a kiss to his wife’s shoulder.   
“Please tell me you were good.” She muttered, leaning towards him.   
“I’m always good when you ask nicely, gemstone.” He purred.

She bit her lip, glancing at him. “You’re incorrigible.”   
“ _You’re_ counting down the seconds until these children are put to bed.” Maul smirked. “As am I.”   
In the end, the children are quickly put away. That night, Jemini took Lipra, while Maul took Luke. Luke, as always, was quiet, but allowed his face to be cleaned of the pie the children had eaten, and listened to the story Maul had to tell (tonight’s was about how his brother came to find him, because _Obi-Wan Kenobi was not to be trusted_ ).

“Do you have any questions?” Maul asked, concluding the story with his return to Dathomir and the reforging of his body.   
“Why did Savage kill Morley? He _was_ helping you. It wasn’t his fault you were a giant spider.” Luke said firmly.

Maul hummed thoughtfully. “An excellent question. I suppose the answer is; betrayal always runs deep. And we will do anything to protect those we care about. Besides, I wasn’t exactly in a position to stop him.”   
“Were you sad? When Mother Talzin fixed you, and you remembered Morley was dead?”   
“I didn’t have time to be sad. I had a new body, and I felt better than I had in years. I had a brother.” Maul said gently, gently enough that he would have denied it had it been anyone else.

Luke nodded slowly. “I wish I had a brother.”   
“Who knows—maybe you do. Maybe you have a sister.” Maul commented lightly. “We don’t know what your parents were up to before they had you. Perhaps they had two of you, and one of you got lost.”   
“I hope we find them.” Luke said seriously. “Like your brother found you.”   
Maul paused. “If that is your wish, we will look. One day.”

Luke nodded, and yawned, snuggling down into his blanket. “One day.”   
Maul patted the boy’s head, much like he was used to doing for Lipra, then rose and headed to his own bedchambers. For once, he had beaten his wife there. (Lipra had a way of turning one story into two into three…)

Eventually, she walked in, fatigue pouring off of her. He put down the datapad he was reading, and helped her to the bed, moving to massage her back.   
“Force, that feels good.” She sighed, moving closer to him. “That little girl is so stubborn. I don’t know where she gets it.”   
“Mm… where indeed…” Maul mused pointedly. “Could it be from the woman who dragged me here with a game of sabacc and hasn’t let me leave since?”

She laughed. “I didn’t know you wanted to leave.”   
“I didn’t say _that_.” Maul said, aghast. “I was even downright nice earlier.”   
He would not speak Kenobi’s name, invite that presence between them in their marital bed. She relaxed though, a bit more than she already was under his hands.

“Your nice or my nice?”   
“I only dislocated one arm.” And potentially only broke one rib. Kenobi had had worse.   
“That’s downright diplomatic for you.”   
“Take that back, I’m not diplomatic.” He growled, but it was a playful growl. The one he knew she liked, right in her ear, with honeyed words about what he was going to do to her.

She turned to face him. “I’m serious. Thank you for… finding an accord, I suppose.”   
Maul shrugged. “I would do anything for you, my gemstone.”   
Jemini licked her lips. “Anything?”   
He leaned in, pressing his forehead to hers. “Anything… except share you. You are _mine_.”

She blinked in surprise, before wrapping her arms around his neck. “Darling, that was never in doubt. You really must have been diplomatic, if you weren’t taking out _jealousy_ as well on my poor old friend.”   
“I know you’re mine. I made sure he knew too.” Maul finally said, breathing in her heady scent.   
“Darling… my love… my one and only…” She muttered against the crook of his neck, interspersed with kisses. “You teased me earlier.”

Maul chuckled. “So I did.”   
Jemini looked up at him. “It’s not nice to tease and not do anything about it.”   
“No. It’s not.” He agreed, before pouncing on his wife.

He took great pleasure in drawing out her breathy sighs and moans, and his name, over and over again. He continued until she was spent, and he was completely and utterly satisfied that he was her one and only.


	10. Before (V)

Maul was under the impression that honeymoons were meant to be times of constant sex. He was also under the impression it was just meant to be the couple.

Unfortunately, poor Kaiydon had lived long enough to see both of her children married, and then had passed. And after the funeral came the coronation, and it looked like he wasn’t going to get his week of non-stop sex anytime soon. (Or at least the testing of the hypothesis that it wasn’t _really_ what people did. Though who could tell with the Ryeeshans.)

Then, once all of that nasty coronation business was over (though he did enjoy seeing her covered in gold and satin, the way she _should_ be), something happened. Jemini had been walking with him to her next royal thing that he had been attempting to persuade her away from, when she had dropped to her knees, shaking.

“Gemstone? _Jemini_?” Maul demanded, dropping down to pick her up. “What’s wrong?”   
“Master Windu— no, no, he’s not the only one." She sobbed, clutching at him. “Maul, I can’t feel them!”   
“Feel who?” He asked, shifting her into his arms.   
“The other Jedi! They’re all—” She cut herself off with another sob. “Can’t you feel them going out?”   
“I’m not a Jedi.” Maul pointed out.

Marilize, head of the guard, stepped out from another side-hallway. “Your majesty, there’s… there’s something you should see.”   
“Can’t you see we’re busy?!” Maul snarled at her.   
Marilize stared him down. “It’s the Emperor, sir.”

“ _Sidious_.” Maul growled, holding _his wife_ to him the way he had after their wedding. No doubt he was behind this.   
“It’s… the holonet… I’m sure you can access it from your quarters.” Marilize said, eyes darting between them.   
Maul nodded once, carrying his wife away. She had been good about holding her grief from her mother together in public, admitting to him that she felt guilty that she didn’t grieve _more_. But this seemed to have pushed her over the edge.

Her sobs were muffled now, but she was still holding onto him for dear life.   
He turned on the holonet in their bedroom, and sat down on the bed with her in his lap, half-listening as he ran a hand through her hair.

Sidious had killed the Jedi. He would have been happy, if it didn’t mean his gemstone was crying in his arms.   
“Shh, shh, my gemstone… I know what it is, to lose your people. To feel them die.” Maul said softly. “Sidious took me to Malachor. I felt… I felt every saber-stroke, every drop of anguish. And I let it harden me. You must do the same.”

She shook her head. “No, no, I’m the last… I can’t.”   
“Jemini.” Maul ordered. “Look at me.”   
She wouldn’t, so he pulled back slightly, and tilted her head up. “ _Jemini_. You are not one of them, because _you’re not dead_. Even the other survivors are not _Jedi_ anymore. You need to harden, use this, or it will _destroy_ you.”   
“There has to be something other than detachment or hardening my heart!” She snapped, wiping at her eyes.

“There isn’t.” Maul snapped back. “You can die a Jedi like the rest of them, or become a Sith.”   
She pulled away from him, and that hurt more than anything else she could do. “Has this been your plan all along?” She asked shakily. “To destroy the Jedi and then _rebuild_ me as your-your perfect Sith Empress?!”   
Force, he liked the idea of her on a throne, giving firm orders. Being _worshipped_ the way she deserved.

He moved to a more languid position, watching her. “It wasn’t my plan, but I admit I don’t mind.”   
“How could you say that?!” Jemini demanded.   
Maul narrowed his eyes. “I have never denied what I am, Jemini. Didn’t you know what I am, who I am? Perhaps you should have made sure before you married me.”

“What, you’ll leave me too?” Jemini barked a bitter laugh.   
Maul sat up, eyes blazing. “ _No_. You gave yourself to me, and I gave myself to you. You are _mine_ now, forever and ever.”   
She wiped at her eyes. “You really mean that?”   
“What makes you think I don’t?”

“I know you were trying to be threatening, but… it was really sweet.” She sat down on the bed again. “…even if I don’t become a Sith?”   
“Mine.” He growled, wrapping an arm around her.   
She leaned into it, curling up against him. “I… thank you. It’s just… it’s so easy to feel alone, and—like no one really wants me. But you do. _You do_.”

Maul pressed a kiss to her forehead, and gave a hum of agreement. “You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.”   
There was a pause, and then she gave a shuddering sob. “He killed them. He killed them all.”   
“And we will kill him.” Maul said simply. “I was already planning to do it, but I suppose you can help.”   
Jemini gave a snort. “How gracious of you.”

Maul ran a hand through her hair, watching it move and shine. “Revenge is appealing, isn’t it, gemstone?”   
“It’s okay to dream.” Jemini said softly. “As long as we don’t act on it.”   
Maul scoffed. “And if I do? Act on it?”   
“Then… it’s easier to ask forgiveness than permission. And he’s a horrible old man.” Jemini said softly.

“My bloodthirsty gemstone.” Maul cooed. “I knew you had it in you.” She’d be stunning in battle armor, conquering worlds. Being given the respect she _deserved_ as millions bowed to her, their heads on the ground.   
“I’m just… I’m _angry_ , and hurt, and confused, and alone, and you’re the only thing that makes sense right now.” She admitted.   
Part of him wanted to push for her to embrace it, and use it. She was vulnerable, and would listen now.   
_But_ that was Sidious’ tactic. And he wasn’t Sidious, and she might resent him later. So he didn’t.

She recovered enough to go out in public, and continue to lead her people. He tried to soothe the ache, fill up all of her emptiness. He didn’t know if it was working, or would work, but in the middle of him doing so, the emissary of the Emperor arrived.

The emissary was a tall, thin man, with a continuously unhappy expression. Maul didn’t find this out until later, because he went out of his way to avoid what he considered _politics_. But, regardless, the man stepped into Ryeesha’s throne room, and immediately made a face that implied there was a bad smell.

“Can I help you?” Jemini asked, turning away from the petitioner she had been speaking with.   
“Where is Queen Erebai?” The man asked flatly.   
“I am Queen Jemini Erebai.” Jemini replied, raising an eyebrow. “What is it?”

The man’s expression soured further “Our most gracious Emperor, Lord Palpatine, has sent you a missive. Since you saw the error of your ways and left the Jedi before they revealed themselves as traitors, you have been spared. The Emperor would like to offer you a position in his regime.”   
Jemini stepped back. “I… what kind of position?”   
“You would be retrained as an inquisitor, to root out Jedi survivors.” The man huffed.

“There were survivors?” Jemini’s breath hitched.   
“Even our glorious Emperor could not destroy all of the filthy rats.” The emissary inclined his head.   
“And what if I refuse?”   
“Then the Emperor demands that you cut yourself off from the Force entirely, with potential randomized inspections to ensure your compliance.” The emissary snapped. “He cannot have another potential rise of Jedi insurgency. You understand, of course.”

Jemini bit her tongue to keep from biting back a retort. “Of course. I will need time to think about the Emperor’s _generous_ offer.”   
“It is a clear-cut offer, girl. You stay here, powerless, or live your best life.”   
“Unfortunately, I have a duty to my people.” Jemini said. “And I cannot leave them.”

“That’s your answer, then?” The emissary narrowed his eyes.   
Jemini nodded once. “I suppose it is.”   
The emissary clicked his fingers, and troopers stepped out of the shadows. Jemini stepped back, her own guards at the ready.

“It has come to the Emperor’s attention that not everyone can easily sever themselves. These should help.” The emissary said in a bored tone, as though this did not matter to him at all. “They are made from the skin of ysalamiri, to block the Force.”

A trooper in stark white armor presented Jemini with a box that felt… _wrong_. She swallowed, and took it. The trooper then backed away, returning to the shadows in a way that didn’t feel natural either.   
Jemini hesitantly opened the box, and saw two bracers.   
“What if I refuse?” She asked.   
“Then Ryeesha will be carpet-bombed.” The emissary said in a bored, clinical tone, before activating his comm line. “Captain—”   
“Wait!” Jemini said quickly. “I’ll do it.”   
“Excellent. Please remove any relevant jewelry, and put them on.”

“I cannot remove my wedding cuff.” She said firmly, gesturing with her left arm to show off her wrist.   
“Then tie on the bracers over it.” The emissary said. “Trooper, help Queen Erebai.”   
Another stepped forward, and tied the bracers firmly around her wrists. With the final knot, she could feel them _shrink_ against her skin, and harden somehow.   
“Nanobyte technology.” The emissary added calmly. “So you don’t… _lose_ them. They’ll come off on their own when you’re used to being removed from the Force.”  
“Thank you.” She grimaced. “Would you like your box back?”

“Keep it.” The emissary said. “It is a gift, after all.”   
“Can we offer the emperor’s emissary our hospitality?” Jemini said with forced politeness as everything felt _wrong_ , wrong, _WRONG.  
_ “I have others to attend to.” The emissary said dismissively. “If you require an empire presence, I would be happy to leave troopers here to aid you.”

And have spies in her midst? Absolutely not.   
“No thank you.” Jemini said with continued cheer.   
The emissary shrugged, and left as quickly as he came. He paused in the doorway. “Should I give Senator Elkreth your regards? She asked me to pass on her condolences.”

Jemini understood the implicit threat. Elkreth was Ryeesha’s voice on Coruscant, and she could easily be tossed aside. Turn up in an alleyway somewhere.   
“Give her my thanks, and my hope for her continued good health.”   
“Well.” Said the emissary. “That’s entirely up to you, isn’t it?”

Oh, so they weren’t even trading the subtle political barbs anymore. Jemini smiled until she was sure he was gone ( _but how could she be sure, she couldn’t FEEL_ ) and then tried to tear the bracers off, first with her fingers and then her teeth.   
“Allow me, your majesty.” Guardsman Nobi offered diplomatically. He also tried to attack it with his fingers, then teeth, then he said, “Alright, how about we both pull. Ready? One, two, three…”

Nothing happened, except for Jemini and Nobi nearly dipping to the floor as they attempted to pull away from one another.   
“Maybe we should get some grease?” Nobi muttered, peering at the bracer on her arm without the marriage cuff. “Or, do you think it’s starting to shift, your majesty? Do you want to try again?”   
“It just feels like you’re yanking on my arm.” Jemini growled through gritted teeth.

“What _are_ you two doing?” Came a voice from nearby.   
Jemini looked up to see Maul watching them in complete confusion.   
“The Empire paid us a visit.” She held up her wrists.   
“I am going to get my granny’s special apple butter!” Nobi declared, running out of the room. “We used to slather ourselves up in it and slide across glass. Like skates on ice, I tell you, it’s never been so smooth.”

Maul ignored him, and slowly approached, keeping his eyes on Jemini’s wrists. “I can’t… _feel_ you.” He said in frustration. “Not the way I usually can.”   
He touched her wrist experimentally, then jolted back. “ _What is that_?” He hissed. “And _why_ is it covering our marriage cuff?”   
“It was either that or take off the cuff entirely.”

Maul held up her hand, careful not to touch the bracer as he examined it. “And you just _put this on_? Are you stupid, or just crazy?”   
“They were going to reduce the planet to rubble!” Jemini hissed. “I had one of three options; put on the cuffs and cut myself off from the force, refuse and be bombed to oblivion, or become a Sith Inquisitor!”   
Maul hissed. “Under Sidious?”

“Palpatine.”   
Maul narrowed his eyes. “ _Sidious_.”   
“Aren’t you going to tell me I’m a fool for not following the path of the Sith?” Jemini tried to joke. It fell flat.   
Maul crossed his arms. “ _That_ isn’t taking power. _That_ is becoming a slave. It’s not the way of the Sith.”

“What, to consolidate power?”   
Maul narrowed his eyes. “It was never about consolidating _my_ power. It was about _our_ power.”   
Jemini paused. “Does this… change things? Now that I’m no longer a Jedi?”   
“You haven’t been a Jedi for the entire time I’ve known you.” Maul said, focusing on tying his own marriage cuff tighter. It had _almost_ become loose.

It was acceptable for them to come off much later, after at least a year, for maintenance. This close to their marriage, for either of them to lose their cuffs, meant that there had been an irreparable break.   
Jemini took a deep breath. “He… they’ll come off on their own. If I remove myself from the Force.”   
“So if you stop fighting them.” Maul cocked his head, thinking. “Classic Sidious. They’re both for you?”

“Coruscant doesn’t know we’re married, much less who I’m married to.” Jemini nodded.   
Maul narrowed his eyes, before pointing at her accusingly. “You’ve been protecting me!”   
“Yes?” Jemini said, trying to pull on the bracers again. (Maybe it was a matter of angle?)   
Maul leaned over, and tilted her chin up to look him in the eye. “Do you think I am some _child_ in need of _coddling_? _You_ are the one in need of protection, because you refuse to become Sith!”

Jemini rolled her eyes. “I don’t see how that’s much of a priority right now.”   
Maul growled wordlessly, with all of the offended dignity and anger of a wet cat. “Have you been coddling me the entire time?!”   
“Maul, when people care about each other, they protect _each_ _other_!” Jemini huffed.

“I do not _need_ your protection! _You_ need my protection!” Maul snarled, tangling his fingers with hers to raise her wrists up to eye height pointedly.   
Jemini glared at him. “It’s meant to be _equal_. That does not mean you take care of me and get nothing back, like I’m a little doll! You are not going to lose me if I try to protect you back!”   
He tightened his grip. “It’s already started. First they take your power. Then they take your spirit. Then they take your body. _Then there is nothing left_. That’s what they always _do_!”

“Maybe it would be better if you actually had someone you trusted to watch your back!”   
“I am _not_ going to let you die for me!” He snarled, before pulling away as though she’d burned him.   
“We’ve come a long way from me asking you to kill me.” Jemini said softly.   
Maul turned away and scoffed. “Because you were annoying, and I didn’t want to give you the satisfaction. I’m going.”

“Where?”   
“I don’t know!” He snarled, pushing past guards.   
She ran after him. “You’re not going to lose me.”   
“Yes, because I _learned_ from my brother’s death.” He snapped, continuing to stalk away. “I won’t make the same mistakes this time. _I_ protect _you_. That’s it. Nothing else.”

She stopped in the hallway, watching him walk away.   
He returned in the middle of the night, two days later, smelling of smoke and soil, just like during their courtship.   
“I thought we agreed you’d tell me if you were going to be gone like that again.” She muttered as he climbed into bed.   
“I’m not your dog.” He snapped, before pulling her close. “…you’re not allowed to die.”

“No. But neither are you. I took the cuffs because it meant the least to lose.”   
“You’re an idiot.” He said, almost affectionately. “You lost your connection to the Force.”   
“Which felt empty, so it was a blessing in disguise.” She corrected. “But anything else would have meant losing what we have here.”   
“Sentimental.”   
“I never was a very good Jedi.”

He buried his face in her hair. “…why do you continue to let things hurt?”   
“Because they happened. Because they were real, and I need to know that. To acknowledge it.”   
“You wouldn’t make a very good Sith either.” He finally admitted.   
She turned to face him, smelling the smoke and soil and… flowers? A quick glance to his side of the bed revealed a flower, just like before.

“You’ve already courted me.”   
He looked away. “Your sentiment is contagious.”   
She leaned forward and kissed him gently. It always shocked him when she did—something about how no one else would. But that was fine by her. She was his, but he was hers.


	11. After (V)

Sometimes it was hard for him to sleep. Not always, because he could listen to his wife’s slow, even breathing, and match it.

But sometimes, like that night, he would get up and walk until he was on a terrace, looking at Ryeesha’s moon. It was stark white and smoother than any other moon he had seen. It had once been a part of the planet, a large, almost perfectly circular opal if legend served him correctly, blown off the planet in a volcanic explosion.

It was nothing like Dathomir’s moons, or Naboo’s, or any other moon he had ever seen. Ironically for something in the sky, it grounded him. He was _there_ , where the stupid Ryeeshans fell all over themselves to make him feel… comfortable. Safe, even. He didn’t have to establish dominance, because he was already on top. So where did he go from there?

“Sir?” Someone asked behind him.   
Maul didn’t look away from the moon. Burst of childhood energy, innocent and kind but not Lipra at all.   
“Hello, Luke.” He said instead. “Couldn’t sleep?”   
“It’s too quiet.” Luke said. “There are no pumps here.”

“Hmm.” Maul said as a reply, before turning to look at the little boy. “How did you find me?”   
Luke rubbed his eyes sleepily, as though the finding wasn’t the issue. And without the Force, it would be—this terrace was in a mostly disused part of the palace, almost entirely hidden by central architecture, so that its occupants could look straight up.

“I found you.” Luke said simply, squinting in concentration. “You’re… red.”   
Maul laughed. “And you’re pink.” Force, he liked children’s honesty.   
“No. You… feel red. Like how Lipra feels pink.” Luke frowned, frustrated that he didn’t have the vocabulary to explain. “And Auntie Jem feels… blue. But a pale blue.”

Maul shrugged. “Lipra does take after me.” In another life, she would be a wonderful Sith Lord. However, he was in no hurry to train her. Training was hard and cruel, and he still woke up gasping remembering it. He didn’t need to mold her anger, force her to hate.   
Then he registered Luke’s words. “ _Auntie_ Jem?”

“She said I could call her that.” Luke said softly. “I… I didn’t want to make her sad, and say no, but it makes me miss Aunt Beru more.”   
“Well, you don’t have to call me _Uncle Maul_.” Maul replied easily. He could accept epithets from his wife. He could accept Papa from Lipra, and presumably the baby in time. But that was _it_. He wasn’t some cuddly figure, after all.

Luke shook his head. “I’m forgetting her face.” He admitted, looking to Maul like it was a great shame of his.   
Jemini had wanted to shelter the child, but Maul thought that was stupid. “Luke, do you understand why you’re still here?”   
“Because Aunt Beru said I could?” Luke asked softly.   
Maul bent to look the child in the eye. “Your aunt and uncle have given their lives for you, as Jemini and I would give our lives for Lipra.”

There. Bandage off.   
“They’re dead?” Luke asked quietly, eyes wide.  
Maul nodded.   
“Because of me.” That wasn’t a question.

“It is a parent’s duty to die for their child.” Maul said simply, because getting angry about how his own mother, and master failed him wasn’t the point.   
Instead of the little boy getting angry and swearing vengeance upon those who had wronged him though, Luke promptly burst into tears.

Maul was apparently very bad with upset children according to Jemini. In fairness, his main point of reference was Lipra, whose problems were simple. She was upset by something? He would destroy it. She wanted something? Well, why _shouldn’t_ she have it? According to Jemini, this was a ‘bad way to raise a child’ and would make her ‘a little terror’ in the future, but that was how he had operated since he was a child, albeit being the one to seek his own vengeance and acquisitions, and he had turned out _fine_.

Maul patted Luke’s shoulder awkwardly. “Don’t worry. Once you harness your hate, you will be able to avenge them, and kill their murderer.”   
This did not comfort Luke at all. If anything, the child began crying harder.   
“Of course, we wouldn’t send you out without training!” Maul said quickly. “You would make an excellent apprentice.”

Luke sniffled. “I’m _already_ a ‘prentice.”   
This seemed to be the way to calm down the child. “Well, how do you like that?”   
“’S good.” Luke said, wiping at his eyes. “I like Master Ilitai. I lie the cloth, ‘cause it feels like water, but it doesn’t leave.”   
“Are you learning things?” Maul asked, gesturing vaguely.

“Yeah. I like school here too. No one tells me I’m a stupid slave.” Luke said, sitting down cross-legged. “I like it here, but I feel bad because I miss Aunt Beru and Uncle Owen and they should be here too. But…” He remembered, and his eyes began to well up again.   
“You are a child. There was nothing you could do. Yet.” Maul said awkwardly. He knew that guilt, and so did Jemini. But Luke truly was powerless, especially against Vader. “If anything, blame Kenobi for grabbing you and bringing you to safety instead of stopping Vader.”

“But if he didn’t, I wouldn’t be here.” Luke said. “And I like being here, I told you.”   
Maul didn’t know what to say. Luke couldn’t stop them from being killed, couldn’t do anything. But that’s far too close to his own wounds for him to say it.   
“They’d want you to be happy.” He finally settled on. “Live, where they couldn’t.”

 _Force_ , he’s become soft and maudlin on Ryeesha. _But_ the child stopped making sad noises, so it worked out. For the moment, at least. He sat down cross-legged as well. “Now, why are you here?”   
“Because you don’t tell me it’s going to be okay.” Luke said. “Auntie Jem keeps saying it will get better, but she doesn’t say _how_ , and Mister Kenobi always looks at me with the sad face—and he shouldn’t have taken me! I’m still mad at him about that! And I can’t go talk to Master Ilitai right now.”

“Why can’t you talk to Master Ilitai?” Maul asked, leaning in. Was she hurting the boy?   
“Because it’s the middle of the night. She’s asleep.” Luke said, in a tone so patient it bordered on rude. “When I get sad, she says to use my feelings and stitch it into the cloth.”   
Maul leaned back. “A concept I can understand.” His footing still felt awkward with the boy, but this seemed like familiar ground.

“She thinks my stitching is good when I do the sad stitching.” Luke said, before eying Maul speculatively. “It isn’t.”   
Maul barked a laugh. “I’m sure. But you are learning to channel your feelings to build your power, and that’s what matters.”   
Luke looked at him, bewildered. “I’m learning embroidery right now.” He said, as though Maul had lost the plot of the conversation.

Maul frowned at Luke. The boy would be a _wonderful_ Sith if he gave in and let his anger overwhelm him. Maul could bring himself to teach the son of Anakin Skywalker to hate, but not if he was stubbornly refusing to embrace the Dark Side at all. The boy was an untapped well of power, he could feel it easily in the Force, but despite his sadness and guilt and fear, there was little anger.

“You must learn to feel anger.” Maul finally decided. “Tell me, Luke, what makes you angry?”   
“The kids at my old school.”   
Injustice, which wasn’t _great_ , but whatever. Maul wasn’t exactly the best moral guide for the Sith these days anyway. “Good.” He said, before cocking his head at Luke. “You’re afraid. If you turn your fear to anger, your anger will grow. What makes you afraid?”

“I don’t want anything to happen to you and Lipra and Master Ilitai and Auntie Jem.” Luke said. “Not like… not like Aunt Beru and Uncle Owen. And I don’t want to just be _taken_ again, and lose everything.”   
Maul nodded. Fear was rooted in protectiveness, but also the potential of losing stability. The protectiveness was… too understandable. He needed to work on that in himself.

“You are worried that what is yours will be taken from you.” Maul said, because putting it that way was easier than thinking about how he couldn’t bear to see Lipra crying big fat tears.   
“Yeah.” Luke said softly.   
“You must become strong enough to make sure that it isn’t. That no one would dare to cross you.” Maul said coolly.

“Because… that would be rude?” Luke said slowly. “I’m okay with sharing.”   
“ _Sharing_ leads to them just _taking_ and not leaving any for you.” Maul snapped.   
“No it doesn’t.” Luke said.   
Maul glared at him, but the child continued. “Lipra shared some of her toys with me. And then we were able to play better, because we were playing together. I don’t want to play without her.”

“I’m glad you don’t.” Maul said, which was meant to be a _threat_ but Luke continued on. “Gimbo at school shared his books with me because I didn’t have any yet, and that was really nice of him. Master Ilitai helped me make a decoration for his bag as a thank you. And ‘sides, if you had to keep track of all the stuff you had all the time, you wouldn’t have time for anything else. You’d just be sitting there alone.”

“What about people?” Maul asked, voice deceptively soft.   
Luke tilted his head. “You don’t have slaves here.”   
“That’s _not_ what I meant.” Maul snarled. “Imagine, for a minute, that you are friends with someone—”   
“I’m friends with a lotta people.”

“Fine. Imagine, you are busy being friends with Lipra, when someone new comes in and steals all of her attention away from you. Wouldn’t that fill you with rage?”   
“Can’t I be friends with them too?”   
“No. You hate them.”   
“I don’t hate anyone.” Luke shrugged. “But Lipra wouldn’t be friends with a bad guy.”

Maul took a deep breath. “Okay. Imagine Mister Kenobi, or someone like him, grabbed Lipra and took her away. Wouldn’t you be angry then?”   
“Yeah. But you’re always talking about killing people, so you’d get him before he left.” Luke shrugged.   
Maul considered this. The boy obviously wasn’t _wrong_ , but… “But what if I wasn’t there? You need to learn to be able to rely on yourself.”

Luke shrank in on himself. “I don’t want to hurt people.”   
Maul resisted the urge to bury his face in his hands and scream. The boy clearly wasn’t going to become a Sith anytime soon. He couldn’t muster anger at all, which honestly was funny when Maul considered that his father was Anakin Skywalker.

“But sometimes, you need to protect yourself, and what’s yours.” Maul explained through gritted teeth.   
Luke considered this. “Like from thieves?”   
Maul nodded firmly. “Yes! Exactly!”   
“Uncle Owen caught some thieves once. They were trying to siphon water from our moisture farm.”

“And what did he do?” Maul asked.   
“We gave them food and supplies and Aunt Beru painted a mark on our fence that meant people could ask us in the future for help.” Luke replied. “They needed help more than we needed water.”

Maul was beginning to feel quite tired of arguing with Tiny Skywalker that he should be evil. Tired enough to forget his guilt and insomnia and think about returning to his warm bed and soft wife.   
“Luke, why couldn’t you sleep?” He finally asked.   
“Too quiet.” Luke said. “I told you.”

“Have you been unable to sleep _every_ night?” Maul snarked.   
Luke shifted uncertainly. “No…”   
“Then what’s so special about tonight?” Maul asked.   
Luke twisted his hands. “…tomorrow’s my life day.”

“Empire Day?” Maul clarified.   
Luke nodded. “We don’t really have the Empire on Tatooine, though. Aunt Beru makes a cake, and Uncle Owen gives me bits of scrap that he’s made and then taken apart, so it’s a present and a puzzle, and we sing the life day song, and I can stay up as late as I want.”   
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Maul demanded. He was given to understand that life days were quite important.

Besides, while Ryeeshans weren’t exactly going to scoff at celebrations, Jemini hated celebrating _Empire Day_ and would get sad that day of year anyway. She’d be glad of a distraction.

“Well, when’s _your_ life day?” Luke huffed.   
“I don’t have one.” Maul replied.   
Luke frowned. “Everyone has a life day. Because you’re alive.”   
“Well, I don’t remember mine.”   
Luke nodded slowly. “Aunt Beru’s grandparents were born slaves too. They got freed later, and then they treated their freedom day like it was their life day.”

Maul’s heart stopped. “I…” He _had_ been a slave, though. It was just that his freedom was incredibly hard to codify. When he had been lost to the Emperor? When Savage had found him? When he had actually been recovered from Sidious by the Mandalorians? When Jemini had dragged him off of that asteroid? Anger threatened to boil over. How _dare_ this little boy imply that he knew what Maul had been through?! How _dare_ he offer this _pity_?! How _dare_ Luke bring up these memories?!

He glared at the boy, who looked back passively. Innocently.   
Maul reached out a hand, and Luke didn’t flinch away. No, he wouldn’t, would he? That was the difference. That was why Luke would never be a good Sith—and why Maul couldn’t bring himself to force the boy to become one. Luke had only ever known love and kindness. And Maul was a monster, but he wasn’t Sidious. He would never do to a child what was done to him.

He placed the hand on Luke’s shoulder. “I think it’s time for you to go to bed.”   
Luke looked up at him warily. “Are you going to do the sleepy trick again? I don’t like the sleepy trick.”   
“No, because you haven’t had any candy from Commander Keth.” Maul replied, picking up the five year old.   
Luke yawned, almost on cue. “Mm… can I have a story then?”

“You already had a story from Jemini.”   
“I like your stories better. And you were telling me about the pirates.”   
“Very well. At this point, I realized we needed to build a power base. We encountered pirates, who I promised money in exchange for their help. Of course, the pirates already had a leader…”

The child fell asleep as Maul walked him back to his room. Luke likely thought that the world was divided into black and white, and Maul had had good reasons for many of his actions. Maul would not necessarily disagree, but the stories meant that he had a better grip on what he had done. He had lost so much of himself, he didn’t want to lose his memories as well.

Luke also had a knack for making Maul look at his past actions with pointed questions, so Maul had… edited a bit. He hadn’t exactly mentioned his… _entire_ behavior on Raydonia. He had mentioned the trap he lured Kenobi into, and how Kenobi had narrowly slipped away. It was fine. Luke already knew he hated Kenobi, and why. But, for whatever reason, Maul cared about this child’s opinion.

That was probably something he’d need to investigate later, unless he did become (more) soft and maudlin.


	12. Act Two: During (II)

Empire Day always annoyed Maul.

The Empire representative would show up, and assess Jemini’s stuttered, stifled connection to the Force. She had been able to take off the bracers a year after Lipra was born, but she still felt _wrong_.  
But it didn’t matter anyway. He wasn’t allowed to be anywhere near the representative, lest they _feel_ him.

He would rejoin his family later for Luke’s hastily put-together life day celebration. Ilitai, who _had known_ , had simply laughed at him and told him to pay for Luke’s new tools.  
“He will make a fine tailor.” She had cackled.  
“He _would_ make a fine Sith.” Maul snarled back, resenting that he was forced to ‘hiding’ even when everybody knew it was _him_.

“And I’m sure the Queen thinks he would make a fine Jedi.” Ilitai smirked, lacing her long fingers together. “But the fact remains that you were too slow, and now the boy will be the most fashionable Force wielder in the galaxy, no matter what path he follows.”  
“You forget yourself.” Maul snapped. There was no way he could back up a threat. His lightsabre had been carefully locked up, next to Jemini’s, and now Kenobi’s. Nothing could go wrong on Empire Day, and he didn’t want to destroy the aged Kaminoan with the Force.

Ilitai waved her hand dismissively. “I’m sure I do. It comes with old age. But at least I was able to know I’d live this long, and prepare accordingly. _I_ have already given him some of my finest cloth, to use how he sees fit. All expenses paid. I gave him a little challenge, as well, there’s a data chip with a children’s book hidden in the threads. It will teach him the nimbleness required to retrieve something that small without destroying the larger cloth.”

“Are you just going to brag about your own gift-giving skills?” Maul hissed.  
“Why, I would offer to let you browse, but my shop is closed on Empire Day.” That was a lie, and they both knew it. Ilitai did not care for Empire Day, anymore than Maul himself.  
Maul let out a very long sigh. “It is _very_ different getting presents for Lipra.” This was as close to an admission of requiring help as he would get.

“Lipra is _three_ , and easily distracted and cossetted.” Ilitai snorted. “Luke has been snatched from the bosom of his family and dropped on your doorstep without so much as a by-your-leave to any of the parties involved. They are not the same.”  
Maul nodded. At last, someone else who thought Kenobi was a kidnapper! (In addition to his many crimes, of course.)

“He enjoys learning, and feeling useful.” Ilitai said. “He likes taking things apart and putting them back together, whether it is cloth or metal doesn’t matter to him.”  
She pushed the small box she had been referring to across the counter to him.  
“And how much?” Maul sighed.

“Oh, only twice as much as I bought it for.”  
“Hyperspace robbery.” Maul snarled, pushing the box back.  
Ilitai cackled again. “Can you blame me? I need to make a living.”  
“We give you so much money from Lipra’s dresses that you could build a palace of your own!”

“Perhaps. But you can’t expect me to turn down a good deal.” Ilitai was _far_ too delighted.  
“I can.” Maul snarled.

“But what would you get instead on such short notice? When it’s his first life day on Ryeesha? Surely you’re not _that_ heartless, Opress.” Ilitai cooed with mock concern. “Though I suppose I could just give it to him myself as I was planning…”

“I admire your ruthlessness, but trying to screw _me_ over is a mistake.” Maul snapped.  
“Isn’t that the queen’s job?” Ilitai smirked, leaning on her counter.  
Maul stared at her, and tried very hard to push down the heat rising in his cheeks. “ _Excuse me_?”  
Ilitai cackled again. “You young folk are so easy to rile up. Here. I’ll charge it to the palace, as always. 1.5 times the market price, like I said.”  
“You said twice before.”  
“Did I? Well, if you want to pay twice, pay twice.” Ilitai snickered. “You can certainly afford it.”

Maul snatched the box up. “No, 1.5 times is fine.”  
“I’m sure.” Ilitai smirked. “Now, tell the boy that those tools are to be used for work only. No playing Jedi with Lipra with them.”  
Maul shivered. “These are presumably needles?”

“Diamond tipped, one of the stronger alloys I’ve found.” Ilitai agreed. “And a pair of scissors, a ruler, good pens, a notepad, and a jeweler’s eyepiece. Everything I use myself.”  
“Paper?” Maul scoffed. “Not a datapad?”  
“Clients are very changeable people.” Ilitai said, before making a dismissive motion. “I’m growing tired of arguing with you, Opress. I am old, after all, and in need of a nap.”

“You never get tired of arguing.” Maul huffed, tucking the box into his cloak.  
“I don’t, no, but this isn’t much of one, and I have cloth merchants to bully while they’re still high on Empire Day.” Ilitai clacked her fingers together excitedly at the prospect.  
With that, Maul was unceremoniously shoved out of her shop.

Jemini had long since dispensed with the official side of her work for the day. Aqoirios was in a sling, cooing softly as she walked through the streets, chatting with merchants. Ryeeshans loved babies, and they were very excited to see Aqoirios for the first time.

Lipra had been a demanding, bratty baby, but that didn’t mean Jemini loved her any less. She was, however, slightly more relieved that Aqoirios was happy, and generally quiet _to the point of sleeping through the night_. (She was, also maybe a little bitter, because everyone had told her that her first baby would be _magical_ and _wonderful_ and in reality Maul was the only one to get Lipra to stop screaming her head off.)

But for the first time on Empire Day, her cheer wasn’t forced. All she had left to do was meet with the Imperial Emissary, prove she’d been a good girl, and then she could go celebrate Luke’s life day. Something that _deserved_ celebrating, for once on this cursed day.

“Come oak, broom and meadowsweet…” She sang to her giggling baby as she picked her way through the marketplace to the designated landing area, since the Empire usually didn’t want to deal with spaceport checks. She stopped abruptly, feeling a Force presence that was both familiar and… wasn’t. The worst parts felt like a very angry Maul on a very bad day, anger choking and smoky through the Force, even to her. But there was something else there, something else familiar that she couldn’t quite grasp, and she wasn’t allowed to reach for.

Quickly, she tried to mute as much of herself as possible as she came into view of the Empire ship.  
She stopped on a hillock overlooking it, as the ship hissed and dropped a gangplank. A tall, dark mockery of clone armor made its way down the plank, and she shivered. _That_ was who she’d felt. That was—that was Vader. Which meant the familiarity she’d stopped herself from reaching for…

She dipped into a low curtsy. “Lord Vader, I didn’t know you were coming this year.”  
“The Emperor bid me, thus I am here.”  
“Of course.” Jemini refused to look up.  
“I see you have continued to keep yourself weak in the Force.”

“Yes, Lord Vader.”  
“You may rise.”  
She did as she was told, keeping her eyes fixed on the ground.  
Vader leaned in, and Jemini took a deep breath to steady herself.  
“Your son is strong in the Force.”

Jemini looked up. “Lord Vader?”  
“I’m sure he will be a credit to the Empire when he grows older.”  
“Thank you for saying so, Lord Vader.” _Older_. Vader wouldn’t take her baby. Yet.  
Aqoirios cooed and reached for Vader’s mask. Vader extended a finger, which Aqorios immediately tried to bite happily.

“I hope your husband is a Zabrak, or he might have had questions.” Vader said, jiggling his finger. Aqoirios cooed happily, ready to play.  
“He is, my lord.”  
“Your baby resembles Darth Maul.” Vader observed.  
Jemini drew a sharp breath. It felt as though ice water had been poured down her spine.

There was a beat, then Vader looked up at her. “A bit of observational humor. Since you were taken with Obi-Wan Kenobi years ago, it would be very funny if you were to bear Darth Maul’s child. Especially since he no longer has reproductive organs.”  
Jemini cringed. Well, Vader didn’t need to know about the uh, _replacement_ that her husband had in addition to cybernetic legs.

Aqoirios laughed, but that might have been because Vader’s glove was exceptionally good to chew on for a half-Zabrak baby, born with a full set of teeth.  
Vader looked down at the baby again. “I didn’t mean to offend, Queen Erebai.”  
“You didn’t, Lord Vader.” Jemini said quickly. “Will you be staying for Empire Day?”

“…yes. I think I will.” Vader said slowly. “You’re very lucky, Queen Erebai, to have a healthy, happy child.”  
“I am lucky twice— _thrice_ —over.” Jemini said before she could think better of it. Then she paled, realizing. “Though I hope that the Emperor continues to allow me this blessing.”  
“I see no reason why that wouldn’t be a problem for the future.” Vader said, which wasn’t a _yes_ , but not a no either.

Jemini twisted her mouth. “I fear I am boring you, Lord Vader. Please, enjoy the festivities.”  
“Thank you, Queen Erebai, but Sith don’t enjoy things as much as former Jedi do.”  
She smiled, despite herself. “Another joke, Lord Vader?”  
“One that rings with truth.” Vader said, tone even as always.

“Well, you’re welcome on Ryeesha whenever you want.” Jemini said. “Please send word on ahead though, so we can prepare accommodation for you.” And shove Maul and Obi-Wan out of the way, hopefully not together.  
Vader looked at her for a long moment, then down at Aqoirios for a brief one. “Queen Erebai, I hope that you are not trying to rehabilitate me.”

“No. But you remind me of an old friend’s student, and if he was here, I would give him the same offer.”  
“A Jedi?”  
“A brother to me.” Jemini dodged the question. “A little brother, moreso than my own blood-brother.”  
Vader was silent for a moment, before stepping away. “You are referring to Anakin Skywalker. He is _dead_ , Queen Erebai, and any resemblance between us is purely coincidental.” His tone was still even, because he couldn’t _change_ it, but she could feel his anger starting to choke her.

“I’m sorry Lord Vader, I overstepped.” Jemini gasped quickly, hoping he wouldn’t throw her. Not while she held the baby.  
She could feel herself beginning to rise, spots dancing in front of her eyes as she struggled to keep conscious and a firm grip on her son. Aqoirios began to wail, distressed.  
The Force presence receded, and there was just the latent anger surrounding him from earlier. Force, that’s just how he _was_ , cloaked in it. She shivered again as he walked away, turning her focus to her son.

A brother to her. What a joke.  
Where had she been when he was alone? When Obi-Wan betrayed him? When Padme died? When his _son_ was taken?  
A few kindnesses to him when he was a child did not make her his sister. And it certainly wouldn’t stop him if he was told to carry out his job.

He was different now, they both were. She was so quick to scrabble, beg for mercy. She was _weak_. But, it was probably better that way. His master would only have him kill her if he cared, setting up a succession crisis on Ryeesha that would give him a headache, and his master a sense of fiendish glee.

 _But_ she had been genuinely kind, for a moment.  
_But_ she cared about her children, and he remembered his own mother when he looked at her, trying desperately to hold onto her baby two feet off of the ground.  
_But_ when he had still been new to the Jedi Temple, she had been patient with him, trying to let him talk through his problems when he could, giving him comfort when he couldn’t.  
_But_ she wasn’t even a Jedi anymore.  
_But_ Talkaye had died alone, the closest thing he had to a crechemate and friend his own age when he was young, and he couldn’t just kill her master without a second thought.

Jemini was no Padme, by any stretch, but she had once, very loosely, been a friend. As had Talkaye. And most of Anakin Skywalker’s friends were dead, or dead to him. It was nice, for just a moment, to have someone try to be kind to him for the sake of being kind to _him_.

So yes, it was probably too much effort to kill her. (Vader was weak too, and had been growing _weaker_ ever since he realized he wasn’t alone. That he had a son, with golden hair and his old eyes, and _oh_ , if only Padme had been able to see their boy, sunshine bright and so open, so _her_ at his core.)

Vader stalked through the Ryeeshan marketplace, and no one really batted an eye. He had changed, Jemini had changed, but Ryeesha hadn’t. He felt like a boy, covered in flowers and wide-eyed as he raced after his new (old) master. Obi-Wan and Jemini had been orbiting each other, oblivious to the world around them, but Ryeesha had been kind.

Kaiydon had softly asked him about Shmi, and held him when he cried. Virjo had taken to him and Talkaye easily, pleased to finally be the Cool Older Brother. When Vader walked around, he could almost _feel_ the echoes of two children, a boy and a girl, tagging after a brother figure. Then he stopped. It wasn’t him he was feeling. There was a well of familiar (achingly familiar, because the minute the boy had said his name on Tatooine, Vader had memorized the moment) Force energy near a tailor’s shop.

A shadow ducked down the alleyway nearby, but Vader had no time for petty pickpockets. That was his boy. His boy, his son, _Luke_ was there. Or at least, had spent enough time there for it him to soak into the building’s essence. Which meant he was nearby, and… yes. _Yes_. Vader would find his son.

Guardsman Nobi had been moved back to the day shift. This was because he had a report with Princess Lipra that few did, probably because he was 16 standard years and still had siblings at home. Nobi was a middle child though, so he was incredibly proud to be someone the princess—and young Master Skywalker!—looked up to.

At that particular moment, he was watching the children run around the gardens, shrieking with laughter. At some point, someone had introduced the idea of paint bombs to Empire Day, to honor the fallen clone troopers who would distinguish themselves with it. (It was not an Officially Sanctioned holiday activity, but that just made it more fun.) If anyone (such as the Queen, or the Prince Consort) asked, Nobi didn’t know how the children had gotten miniature paint bombs.

Lipra’s were pink, of course, and both he and Luke were splattered in it. Luke’s were green, because the boy liked it more than blue. Nobi guessed that came from living on a desert planet, and Luke had used his more sparingly—but more devastatingly. (The prince consort was right, the kid would be a good tactician if he wanted to be.)

“You’re s’posed to LET me win!” Lipra squealed.  
“But then it’s not fun.” Luke pointed out calmly, dodging her clumsy little hands easily. It seemed to have devolved into a game of tag when Lipra had run out of paint bombs. If only there was someone else around so he could sneak off and buy them more safely, but everyone was busy. (Nobi also knew this was why he was there instead of anyone else, but oh well.)

“It’s not fun if you win all the time either!” Lipra scowled, stamping her foot.  
Luke paused. “I’m sorry. I forgot you’re littler—”  
“No pity!” Lipra huffed in a tone that sounded suspiciously similar to her Papa’s.

“It’s not pity. It’s _equity_.” Luke said the word in a tone of his own, implying it had been repeated to him and explained with great gravitas.  
Lipra looked up at him, golden eyes smeared with tears, before smacking a small hand into the other child’s tummy. “You’re it!” She shrieked gleefully.

Luke tackled her, tickling her, until she howled with laughter. “Nobi! Heeeelp!”  
“I can’t, princess.” Nobi called back with a laugh.  
Suddenly both children stopped, and Nobi heard bootsteps. He turned his head. “Hello?”  
Darth Vader loomed out of the palace. “I have come for my son.”

Oh. Oh no no no. Not on Nobi’s watch.  
“Luke, take Lipra and run.” He said, drawing his blaster. “Lord Vader, you can appeal to the Queen—”  
He never got the chance to finish. Darth Vader picked him up without touching him, and threw him into a wall. Like he was nothing but a nuisance. Nobi’s skull crunched, his helmet having been taken off and forgotten on his bed long ago. Nothing bad happened on Empire Day, after all.

Lipra screamed.  
Nobi was lying so very still, and Luke’s heart was going so very fast, and this man moved Nobi like he was _nothing_. Not like Papa did when he threw her in the air, higher, higher, higher, and always caught her. (No one caught Nobi.)

The man walked towards them, slowly, surely. “Luke, my son. It is time for you to take your place by my side.”  
“You killed him!” Luke finally said.  
“I merely knocked him unconscious.” The man said. Lipra couldn’t tell if he was lying—he wasn’t smiling with teeth like Papa with a fun lie, or embarrassed like Mama when she lied. This man was nothing but angry and it _hurt_.

“Run, Lipra!” Luke urged.  
“No!” She picked up one of Luke’s discarded paint bombs and threw it, ineffectually, at the blank man’s face. It carried, because of luck, but fell flat at his feet.  
“He’s going to kill you too!” Luke hissed, and that was _wrong_ , Luke never got mad, never ever never, and Lipra _hated_ the blank man with all her heart.

“No!” She said again, screwing up her face and getting ready for a massive tantrum. The kind that made Mama grind her teeth and made Papa wince. The kind where Mama said, ‘now stop that, you’re too old for this kind of behavior’ and made Lipra’s face get all red and her throat hurt from screaming too hard. The kind that got her what she wanted.

“This isn’t the time to be brave!” Luke grabbed her shoulders, and it _hurt_. Luke wasn’t supposed to hurt her, either. This was the blank man’s fault.  
“I am not currently interested in harming the princess.” The blank man interrupted. “But you, my son, are coming with me. It would be easier for you if you agree.”

“You killed Aunt Beru, and Uncle Owen!” Luke yelled. “You killed Nobi!”  
“Again, I did not. Yet.”  
“Leave him _alone_!” Lipra yelled, thick tears beginning to sting her eyes and blur her vision. Why wasn’t anyone _listening_ to her? “I’m the princess and-and I say you have to leave! Now!”  
Her throat hurt from screaming, and no one was coming. The blank man wouldn’t care if she threw herself on the ground and kicked and bit and screamed until she got what she wanted.

“I’m not going with you.” Luke added. “I’m _not_.”  
“Then I’m afraid you don’t give me much of a choice.” The blank man replied. “I will take you, and you will learn your place.”  
Lipra felt so, so cold hearing that. “No!”  
“You do not seem to have a large vocabulary. I suggest you leave us before I lose what little patience I have left.”

“Don’t hurt her!” Luke said quickly, stepping in front of her.  
Lipra held onto him, tight as she could. “You can’t take him alone! You’ll just hurt him! I won’t let you!”  
“Then you will come with us.” The blank man said, picking her up.  
Lipra struggled. This wasn’t what she wanted!  
“Let her go!” Luke said quickly.

“No, I think I won’t.” The blank man’s grip was impossible to escape, much tighter than when Papa caught her to throw her into the air, or when Mama held her on her lap.  
“Come along, my son. And Princess Erebai, I suggest you behave, unless you want to annoy me.”  
Lipra sniffled, and bit at his arms encircling her too too tight. He didn’t react. She reached a hand out for Luke to save her, but the blank man just trapped her tighter. Lipra was so scared.

So, she screamed in her own head. Once, the last year, Mama had been on a trip to a province, and had brought Lipra so Lipra could see people and they could see her. It hadn’t been too far from the capital, it was just supposed to be day trip. There had been an earthquake, and she and Mama had gotten trapped. And Mama had asked her not to scream out loud, because there wasn’t much air and there was nothing Mama could do.

But. Lipra had screamed in her head, and Papa had come. Papa had heard.  
“How did you know where we were in the rubble? That we were even alive?” Mama had asked, taking Papa’s hand and standing up slowly.  
“I heard Lipra.” And Papa had pulled them both into a tight hug. “ _Never do that again_.”  
“It wasn’t that bad of a quake. We’re just a little shaken up.”

So. Lipra knew Papa would hear, even if she wasn’t doing it out loud.  
The blank man winced, though, like he could hear her, and passed a hand over her eyes. Lipra stopped screaming, slumping in his arms.  
“What did you do to her?” Luke demanded.  
“I merely put her to sleep. Her fate is in your hands. Now, come, my son.”

Vader had managed to make it to the little hillock he’d met Queen Erebai on when things started going off-plan.  
For one thing, Queen Erebai and her zabrak baby were back, as well as a hooded figure that he could _feel_ the malice pouring off of.  
Vader shifted the unconscious child in his arms to get a better view, and the hooded figure’s eyes seemed to glow Sith gold, not just the colour of the child’s eyes.

“Darth Maul.” Vader acknowledged. “I heard you were dead.”  
“You don’t need to worry about my death.” Maul snarled. “Put. Down. Our. Daughter. _Now_.”  
“No.” Vader replied. “She will be a good way of controlling you two.”  
Maul snarled and stepped forward, only for Jemini to grab his arm.

“V-- Anakin, _please_.” She pleaded. “Just… we can talk about this! You don’t need to do this!”  
“Anakin Skywalker is _dead_.”  
“Then you have no claim to the boy either!” She snapped, dropping her peaceful facade.  
“Your bruises haven’t even faded yet, and you try to appeal to my _sentiment_ for a long dead identity?” Vader asked. He would have sounded incredulous if he could.

“I’d do anything to get the children back.” Jemini shot back. “Take-take me instead.”  
“We are not _trading_ with him!” Maul snapped, before looking at Vader. “Though we do know where you can find Obi-Wan Kenobi.”  
“No thanks, I believe you have seniority on revenge for lost limbs against him.” Vader had his son now. He wasn’t going to let that lie.

Maul snarled wordlessly. “You _dare_ to joke right now?!”  
And then Vader felt several things.  
Someone was trying to damage the supports of the ship through the Force. Maul tried to _yank_ the child away from him with the Force, which Vader was _not_ having. And he could feel Jemini trying to bring her connection to the Force back online.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Vader said.  
Jemini glared at him, took a deep breath, and _popped_ whatever had been muting her. Oh, she was just as angry as Maul? Well, now they would know the pain of their child being taken.  
The ship began to creak, and he could see the support beginning to buckle.

 _“Enough_. You’ll tear her in half.” Vader told Maul, who stopped immediately. Then he looked down. “Luke, are you the one messing with the ship?”  
“No, sir.” Luke lied.  
“Good, because if you were, I would be forced to kill your little friend right here and now.”

The ship stopped creaking.  
“Anakin, let her _go_.” Jemini snarled, and Vader could feel the Force beginning to crackle with three very upset wielders, untrained as one was.  
“She is my collateral.” Vader replied smoothly. “And then she shall be my son’s rival, pushing him to greatness. And then I shall give her over to the Sisters to be made into an inquisitor.”

Maul had frozen, shaking slightly in poorly disguised anger, and Jemini’s attention divided between her child and husband.  
“You _can’t_ , she’s still so young!” Jemini said.  
“No younger than either of you, when you were taken by your masters.” Vader shot back.

Maul growled wordlessly, before _pushing_ at Vader. Jemini had wrapped herself and the baby in as much of a shield as she could use with the Force.  
Vader stood his ground, gouging deep lines. “Now, now. That was unwise, Maul. What if I had fallen and crushed her?”

“Give her back, give her back, give her _back_!” Maul snarled, leaping forward. But he was unarmed—well, un-legged, mostly, but still. No lightsaber.  
Vader dodged him easily, his own mechanical legs made for functionality rather than mimicking the organics he’d lost. He almost didn’t notice Luke being pulled to Jemini’s side.

“One more step, and I will break your daughter’s neck.” Vader snarled, tired already of Maul’s theatrics. He turned his attention to Jemini, who was glaring at him. “I’ll kill him, Vader.” Her voice shook, and he could tell she was lying even without knowing her, but still.  
“You won’t.” Vader said simply.

Jemini’s mouth twisted. “Alright, I won’t.” Then she shoved the baby into Luke’s arms, and _launched_ the boy into the forest. Maul took the opportunity to make a play for Vader’s lightsaber. Vader snarled wordlessly and whacked him away with his free arm.  
“No!” Jemini screamed. (She sounded just like her daughter.)

Maul, however, rolled to his feet, grinning. Ah, he had grabbed the ‘saber after all. But Vader was protected, and Maul’s weaknesses… weren’t.  
“I suggest you quit while you’re ahead.” He rumbled.  
“But you’re no longer armed.”  
“Or legged.” Vader agreed, before choking poor Jemini once again.

Maul’s attention snapped to her. “No!”  
“Careful, if you try to pull on her, she’ll rip.” Vader cautioned, before saying, “Though I am merciful. _Catch_.”  
He didn’t notice whether Maul had time to disengage the lightsaber before he bodily threw Jemini at him. He then moved onto the ship, finding Luke’s Force signature and _pulling_ him as he began lift off procedures.

He made sure to do the same to his lightsaber as the ship’s hull began to close. A quick once-over of the children revealed that the baby hadn’t been brought along, Luke was scratched up and red-eyed, and the princess was still unconscious. All in all, he’d gotten what he wanted. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Where's Obi-Wan, you may ask? 
> 
> He was sent elsewhere on the planet to especially avoid being found. (He was also, at the exact time of the kidnapping, having a nap in a hammock. Poor man needs it with what he walked back into.)
> 
> Luke put Aqoirios down on the ground in the forest when he felt himself start to be pulled. Aqoirios is fine, if a bit startled at being unceremoniously dropped. 
> 
> Maul once was fighting a dog about the size of a Newfoundland and couldn't get it off for like, a minute. Gotta be better than that to get your replacement's replacement, especially when your wife is Rusty in the Ways of the Force.


	13. After (VI) or (I)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want Cad Bane's autograph too, goddamn. (What can I say? Dude's cool.)

Virjo Erebai was reading a salacious holonovel in the middle of the night shift to Coruscant when the call came through. Well, really, he was supposed to be asleep while GT-8T piloted the ship, down in the crew quarters curled up with Rin Ta Cris, but… not that night.

(Not a lot of nights. Virjo had never really adjusted to ship-time as opposed to Ryeesha. His sister could _never_ know, she’d tease him mercilessly.)   
Hearing the beep of the comm, he moved to the cockpit. “This is the _Lightyear_ , what’s up?”   
The holocomm flared up after a minute, illuminating Jemini.

It was very hard to tell with her wreathed in blue, but she looked almost as if she had been crying.   
“Happy Empire Day.” Virjo offered.   
Jemini gave a choked sound that could have been a sob or a bitter laugh. Uh oh. “This has been the worst yet.”   
“It can’t be worse than the time one of the Imps implied your review would go better if you slept with him and how you had to stop Maul from leaping out of the shadow and breaking the nasty old man’s fingers.”

“Vader kidnapped Lipra.”   
“… _Darth_ Vader?” Virjo asked.   
Jemini nodded. “And the boy staying with us, Luke. Choked me out twice for good measure.”   
Virjo leaned back in the worn chair, eyeing his sister’s hologram. “You wouldn’t go down without a fight.”   
“No.”

“Neither would Maul.”   
“Also no.”   
“How bad is it back there?”   
“Well, we haven’t been bombed to glass like Mandalore yet.” Jemini gave another wry laugh. “I guess he hasn’t had time to tell them that I’m back in the Force.”   
“And Maul?”

“Physically fine.” Jemini glanced to her side, and Virjo could almost _see_ his brother-in-law hovering. “What do you need us to do?”   
“We need to get Lipra back.” Jemini said firmly. “You have… contacts. Maul’s name should help open a few doors too, or so he says. We’ll pay anything.”

“We don’t just need a team, we need information.” Virjo pointed out, before sighing. “Do you know anything?”   
“I can send you Lipra’s coordinates.” His brother-in-law’s smooth voice broke in.   
Virjo cringed. “You know, I thought you were joking when you said you were going to put a sub-dermal tracker in her when she was born.”

“ _Why_ would I joke about it? This is _exactly_ the kind of scenario I was afraid of!” Maul huffed. “I cannot count on the loyalty of my former subordinates, but rest assured, I will threaten them into complacency if needed.”   
“What kind of subordinates?” Virjo asked, curiously.   
“Death Watch, Black Sun, the Pyke Syndicate—are you taking notes? Take notes.” Maul ordered. “The Hutts. I think that might be it, my criminal enterprises were still in their fledgling states when they were summarily dismantled.”

Virjo leaned back. “I’ll see what we can do. Send me the coordinates from her tracker?”   
Maul huffed, but there was a beep that implied something had just come through.

“We suspect she’s on Vader’s ship, given what he said when he took her.” Jemini added. “It’s… better than what we heard happened to Master Koth’s daughter.”   
Virjo didn’t know who that was, and he guessed Maul didn’t either, but that didn’t matter. “I’ll see you two in a week.”   
Then he cut the transmission and went down to wake up Rin and tell him everything.

A week later, Virjo (well, really Rin, because he was the big and scary one that everyone took seriously, but Virjo was the talker) ushered his team into the Ryeeshan palace.   
His sister, his brother-in-law, and his sister’s ex-boyfriend (yeesh) were sitting at a conference table. Virjo popped over quickly to give his sister a quick hug, peer at the new baby, and sling an arm around his brother-in-law and quickly squeeze, before sitting down in his customary space. Maul hadn’t even tried to growl and shake him off, this was serious.

“Oh, it’s _you_ —hey, Kenobi!” Hondo Ohnaka said happily. “My old friend!”   
Cad Bane, meanwhile, nodded once at Maul and then glared at Kenobi. Clearly, Jemini was the least polarizing person in the room, besides Aqoirios.   
“If this mission involves killing you, I’ll waive part of my fee.” Cad Bane ( _Cad Bane_! The coolest bounty hunter _alive_!) snarled at Virjo’s sister’s ex-boyfriend. (Rin had said it wouldn’t be good to ask Cad Bane for his autograph, _but_ …?)

“I was given to understand that we were here to defeat Darth Vader, and recover children.” The third person Virjo had found spoke up. By a stroke of luck, Virjo had found her and her Jedi when they stopped to refuel on Kashyyk.   
Slowly, Maul turned to look at her, and Virjo gestured as if to say, _didn’t I do good_?

“Virjo,” Maul snarled. “There is a _Nightsister_ in my home.”   
Nightsister Merrin stared back impassively. “And I was not aware that a Nightbrother had made it off of Dathomir, but here we are.”   
“ _Why_ is there a Nightsister in my home?”   
“Because your daughter is half-Zabrak, and the wordy man said she was strong in the Force.” Merrin replied coolly. “Presumably, Dathomirian power will soon surface in her.”

“My daughter is not a _witch_.” Maul growled, rising quicker than Virjo thought possible. “She will not become one as long as I draw breath!”   
“And yet, I can feel old Dathomirian magic rolling off of you.” Merrin said. “We helped you in your time of need, and now I shall help again, and I will see if your daughter will help rebuild.”

Jemini grabbed Maul’s arm before he could lunge at Merrin, before turning to Merrin herself. “Our daughter has displayed several Nightsister characteristics, including paler skin than mine. It stands to reason that she has inherited more than appearance. However, we would not want to lose her again so soon after getting her back.”

That was when Merrin’s Jedi ran in. “Sorry I’m late, I got lost—Master Erebai? Master Kenobi?”   
Jemini’s face lightened. “Oh, you were Jaro Topal’s padawan. I remember your initiate training, it was when Talkaye chose… well, never mind that. Sit down. We’re planning on sneaking onboard the _Executor_.”

“What information do we have?” Hondo asked, leaning back in his chair. “I am not eager to go flying up to fight Imperials. I’m not a rebel.”   
“You only take their contracts more often than standard ones.” Cad Bane pointed out.   
“How _dare_ you accuse me of having a moral compass! The desperate pay better!”

“They really don’t.” Cal Kestis—yes, that was Merrin’s Jedi’s name, Virjo remembered now—snorted.   
Hondo glared at both the kid and Cad Bane, before turning to Virjo. “Why am I here?”   
“Hondo,” Kenobi finally spoke up. “You’re one of the best speakers I’ve ever met. If anyone could talk us onto an Imperial ship, and off again, it would be you.”   
“Are we letting them know we are there?” Merrin asked. “I was under the impression we were going to hide the ship like last time.”

“Last time?” Jemini asked politely.   
“Cal fought Darth Vader earlier, about the Jedi holocron of Force-sensitive children.” Merrin said.   
Cad Bane and Jemini’s ex both grimaced, but neither interrupted. Cal turned an interesting shade of red. “I had a lot of help.”   
“But you survived, and the children are safe.” Merrin continued. “Hence our presence, since this is our area of expertise.”

“Wait, is she saying she’s getting a bigger cut?” Hondo squawked.   
Jemini slammed her hand on the table. “Everyone is getting equal payment, or at least, the payment that was _promised_. There will be no trading of children for training, extra credits, or _threatening_ people into submission, so stop glaring around the room.” This last part was directed towards her husband.   
Obi-Wan laughed and tried to disguise it as a cough.

“Okay!” Virjo interrupted brightly, activating his presentation. A holo image of Lipra showed up in the middle of the table. “This is my niece, she’s three years old and Force sensitive, and can scream like a wraith. So, for the sake of sanity, if a familiar face isn’t able to pick her up, we’ll be giving you ear plugs.”   
Another image joined her. “ _This_ is Luke Skywalker, who is by all accounts a quiet, reasonable boy.”

“Skywalker? Like… _General_ Skywalker?” Cal Kestis asked.   
“When did Skywalker have time to have a son?” Hondo mused.   
Cad Bane ( _Cad Bane!_ ) and Merrin made faces of long-suffering at each other.   
“Are we going to entertain comments from the peanut gallery for this entire presentation?” Cad Bane huffed, leaning back and crossing his arms.

“You should have gotten the Actual Rebellion involved.” Cal Kestis said, ignoring Cad Bane’s comment. “I met one of ‘em a while back—Commander Tano from the Clone Wars?”   
“Ahsoka is still alive?” Kenobi asked.   
“Last _I_ heard, she didn’t want to be associated with you anymore.” Maul scoffed.

“ _When_ did you hear that?”   
“When I was trying to make friends with her!”   
“Why were _you_ trying to make friends?” Obi-Wan demanded.

“Because she wasn’t interested in becoming my apprentice, and quite frankly, I was a bit unnerved that a child was out on her own when I had set a trap for _you_.” Maul huffed.   
Cal Kestis counted on his hand. “Uh… wasn’t she only about… two, three years younger than I am now?”   
“A child. Practically a baby.” Maul nodded as though Cal had agreed with him. “As such, I tried to offer emotional support—”   
“You _crashed_ her _ship_!” Obi-Wan sputtered.

“I said _emotional_ support, not _structural_.”   
“I am so sorry for the lack of professionalism, Mr. Bane.” Virjo said seriously. “Now if I could get back to the information gathered…?” This last part was of course, not directed at Cad Bane, who _didn’t interrupt Virjo to talk about someone Virjo hadn’t managed to track down in a week_ , but at his brother-in-law and the man that he had replaced.

Virjo, who was a consummate _professional_ , managed to ask for Cad Bane’s autograph _after_ the presentation when everyone started filing out. The Duros agreed for fifty credits, which was a _steal_.   
“This is my greatest treasure.” Virjo told Rin later, who raised an eyebrow.   
“What about your marriage cuff?”   
“Second greatest treasure.” Virjo amended.

“And your engagement crown?”   
“…alright, my _third_ greatest treasure.”   
“I’ll tell Lipra you said that next time you are given a drawing and praise it to Alderaan and back.”   
“ _They’re all so bad_.” Virjo moaned, flopping on their bunk. Then he sat up and looked at Rin. “Do you think once we rescue her, she’ll draw Cad Bane a picture as thank you, and I can get that signed too?”

“No.” Rin said simply. “Mostly because no one thinks Cad Bane is as cool as you do.”   
Virjo gasped in utter shock and disbelief. “He’s the galaxy’s _best bounty hunter_.”   
Rin shook his head slowly. “You know, when you told me you wanted to come away and see the stars, I didn’t think this was what you wanted.”   
Virjo leaned against him. “…well, you’re the galaxy’s best smuggler.”   
“Hrmm.”   
“Can I have your autograph?”   
“Sure.”

Virjo lit up. “Thank you!”   
“For a hundred credits.” Rin grinned.   
“Wh—Cad Bane’s was only fifty!”   
“Good point. One hundred and fifty credits.”   
“I’m your husband!”   
“Two hundred.” Rin laughed, planting a kiss on top of Virjo’s head.

“I could just take it off the manifests.” Virjo pouted.   
“Ah, but then it wouldn’t be a Rin Ta Cris original, would it?”   
“Hrmph.” Virjo snuggled up against his husband. “Hyperspace robbery.”

“No, I’m a smuggler.” Rin said, far too amused.   
“Pirate.”   
“No, that’s Ohnaka.”   
“Kiss me.”   
“ _That_ I can do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, obviously Maul wasn't hanging around Mandalore for canon reasons when he met Ahsoka. (Well, he kind of was, since he mentioned setting a trap for Kenobi. Jemini did not know about his plans to try and kill Anakin/Darth Vader at the time, as Maul had left during the planning for Kaiydon's funeral. He didn't know how to handle it, and didn't feel welcome there. Ironically, the conversation that followed where he said he tried to aggressively adopt Ahsoka led to the discussion that led to Lipra.) 
> 
> Merrin and Cal are from _Star Wars: Fallen Order_. It's a (canon) game from 2019. She is apparently the only Nightsister around at that point on Dathomir, since Mother Talzin straight up disappeared at some point, Asajj Ventress died (Maul would not have taken well to her, moreso than Merrin) during the Clone Wars, and the other survivor was taken off Dathomir long before Merrin (or Maul) could interact with her. Merrin and Cal are both around 18/19 in the game, let alone in this fic, which is a year after their game.


	14. Before (VI) or (II)

“When were you going to tell me that you and Kenobi were _intimate_?!”   
Jemini jolted at the sudden intrusion. She had _just_ gotten to the part in her holonovel where the heroine was getting her bodice ripped off by the pirate, driven by lust after a special flower had exploded in both of their faces.

But there was Maul, being trailed by a guilty looking Virjo.   
“I didn’t know we were going to give an itemized list of previous sexual partners.” She replied evenly, trying to turn back to her novel.   
‘ _”Please,” Ceethra gasped. “I want you. I do.”  
Self-loathing filled his eyes, just for a moment, cutting through the lust. “You’re just saying that—”   
“Arto, I have wanted you since I first saw you. Please. I can’t bear it any longer.”’ _

That was as far as she got before she felt his anger through the Force, and looked up again, nearly bonking heads with him. Somehow, he had gotten behind her (to better loom menacingly) Virjo having presumably disappeared.   
She sent a tendril of _calm-content-question?_ To him, which he rebuffed.

“You _will not_ ignore me.” He snarled.   
She looked up at him, better helped by the fact that he was beginning to tip her chair back. “You don’t have any right to my romantic past. I didn’t make a fuss about yours.”   
“ _I have no romantic past_.”   
“Ah.” Jemini put her pad down and slipped out from under him to stand properly. “It’s generally not considered polite to get upset about who your partner was with in the past.”

“ _We_ are not _partners_.” Maul snarled, keeping the chair between them.   
“Then _why_ would it matter anyway?!” Jemini finally snapped, barely able to keep the hurt out of her voice.   
“Because you’re conspiring against me!”   
“Dating Obi-Wan Kenobi for a brief time when I was eighteen does not mean I was _conspiring against you_.” Jemini spat.

Maul vaulted over the chair to loom over her. She held her ground and glared back up at him. “I will not _share_ you with Obi-Wan Kenobi.”   
“Then are you planning on killing me like Duchess Satine Kryze?” Jemini snapped coldly, crossing her arms.   
“No.”   
“Well, if you can think you’re going to get to bed me again, you have another thing coming!” Jemini said.

“And _why_ is that? Because you’re _Kenobi’s_?”   
“Because I’m not a whore, and I’d prefer for you to have at least a small amount of affection for me if you’re going to share my bed.”   
Maul gave a bitter laugh. “You’re not a whore? But I could practically _smell_ your arousal when I entered the room.”

“How _dare_ you!” Jemini growled, pushing him slightly. “What did you want in here, anyway?”   
Maul caught her hands at the wrists. “I wanted to hear, from your own mouth, evidence of your treachery.”   
Jemini rolled her eyes. “Oh, I’m _so sorry_ , Lord Maul. I was unaware that you only took virgins to your bed.”   
“I don’t _care_ about that, I care that you were Kenobi’s! That you didn’t _tell me_ that he… that you betrayed me like that!”

“I was eighteen, and I thought you were going to kill me!”   
“But I _didn’t_!”   
“ _How in the nine hells was I supposed to know that_?!” Jemini pulled away from him. “I was eighteen! I thought we were going to run away from the Jedi and live happily ever after!”   
“Naïve.” Maul snapped, but he didn’t follow her.

“I _was_ naïve.” Jemini agreed. “But I also am clearly no longer anywhere _near_ Obi-Wan Kenobi, so it doesn’t _matter_! Besides, you left the asteroid three days ago, you can leave at any time to go get your kriffing _revenge_.”   
Maul scoffed. “ _You_ will be my revenge.”   
“I’m _not_ dying so you can take over Ryeesha.” Jemini snarled. “Get a new trick.”

“I already told you— _multiple times, stupid woman!_ —that I wasn’t going to kill you. Nor will I harm you.”   
“Then how are you going to get your revenge?”   
“I will have what he doesn’t.”   
Jemini scoffed, mimicking him. “Alright, first off, I am not a _thing_ to be _owned_. Second, he doesn’t care, because that was over a decade ago, and we split because he loved the Jedi Order more than me. _Third_ , what part of ‘I’m not having sex with you ever again because you thought of me as a whore’ was not clear? You _don’t_ have me. You _won’t_ have me.”

“You _kissed_ me.”   
“That doesn’t mean you own me!”   
“You weren’t _scared_ to kiss me.” Maul pointed out, as though there was something she had fundamentally missed. “You _wanted_ to, unless I was very much mistaken. And I definitely wasn’t mistaken _later_.”

Jemini flushed. “That doesn’t mean anything _now_ , for reasons I have already stated!”   
“You keep saying that I called you a whore, but _I_ never called you one!” Maul pointed at her accusingly.   
“Do you think I’d have sex with _anyone_?!”   
Maul quirked an eye-ridge. “You had sex with _me_.”

“Yes, and now I regret it, so you can _leave_.”   
“No.” Maul said stubbornly. “Because _whores_ get _paid_. And not once have you said anything about payment. Ergo, you’re not a whore.”

“Well done.” Jemini snapped. “I was having sex with you because up until now, I liked you as a person.”   
“I can get you to like me again.”   
“I’m not going to _forget_ this conversation. And I’m not going to forget that you only want me because you’re trying to prove a point to Obi-Wan!”

“Would you prefer I _lied_ and said it didn’t make a tantalizing bonus? _I_ am not going to leave you because I prefer the company of the Jedi Order.”   
“Get out.” She snarled, _pushing_ him out of the room with the Force. And then, with a bit more finesse, she locked the door behind him.

She slowly retreated to her chair, and picked up her pad again.   
‘ _She panted, lips parted, as she looked him over, glistening with sweat.  
“I can’t.” He whispered.   
“Why?” She whined, reaching out to pull him close. “Don’t you want me?”  
“Because you don’t **love** me, and I can’t take that choice from you. I do want you. I want you with all that I am, but Ceethra, I won’t let you debase yourself like this just because I can’t control myself.”’ _

Sourly, Jemini wondered why _she_ had to get stuck with a bull-headed Sith who insulted her instead of an honorable pirate who loved her more than life itself. The holonovel was no longer as fun.

Later, Virjo approached her. “ _Please_ do something about Maul! He’s all… mopey.”   
“Sith don’t _mope_.”   
“Well, he’s not a Sith, just like you’re not a Jedi.”   
Jemini shot her brother an annoyed look. “If you only heard what he said to me—!”   
“No, I know what he said. I heard it _several times_! I can practically recite it word for word.” Virjo spat. “But then, Rin actually joined the conversation.”

“And what, pray tell, did Rin say?” Jemini huffed.   
“He pointed out to Maul that most of his responses tend towards manipulation, and people don’t interact with each other _normally_ the way Maul has been conditioned to think.”   
“And I’m supposed to just _forgive_ him for that?” Jemini hissed.   
“If only.” Virjo muttered.

Jemini glared at him, and he shrugged. “Look, he hates your ex, that’s obvious. But once I pointed out that he was here, and Kenobi wasn’t, he stopped… worrying about being replaced.”   
“Virjo?”   
“Yes, my most favoritest sister in the galaxy?” He said sweetly.   
“Why’re you here?”

“To butter you up so your drama is over before my wedding.” Virjo finally said. “Either kick him off of Ryeesha, or talk like adults.”   
“Rin Ta Cris finally gave you the engagement crown?”   
“No, but it’s coming! Now go get your man.” Virjo huffed, giving her a ‘shoo’ motion.

“He’s not _mine_.”   
“Well, he’s not _mine_ either, and last I saw him, he was monologuing at poor Rin.”   
“Rin Ta Cris makes most conversations a monologue.” Jemini teased.   
“So does Maul, from the other side.” Virjo replied. “Now _go_. I don’t know how to make him stop doing things without getting garrotted in my sleep.”   
“That’s not his style.” Jemini said, but she went to go rescue her future brother-in-law anyway.

Maul was not bothering Rin Ta Cris. Maul was sitting in the rafters of a dark hallway, the only evidence of his presence his glowing eyes.   
“Well, isn’t this a surprise? A princess, coming to talk to me?” He purred, not getting down from his vantage point.   
“Virjo said you had something to say to me.” Jemini crossed her arms.

Maul seemed to have been caught wrong-footed, for once. “You must know I wasn’t trying to offend you.”   
“We got long past the point of offense.”   
He dropped down next to her. “And of course, I am pleased that you came to your senses and replaced Kenobi with me.”   
“ _Not_ what happened, and this is a poor apology.”

Maul squinted her. “ _Why_ would you want me to beg for mercy?”   
“…you don’t know what a real apology is.” Jemini surmised. “Kriff, listen, when you act poorly, you have to say ‘I’m sorry’ to earn forgiveness.”   
“And I accept your apology.” Maul said smoothly.   
“I am going to _strangle_ you.” Jemini growled. “Can you, for _once_ , say something legitimate? Like back in the asteroid?”

Maul frowned at her. “I am not given to sentiment like the Jedi.”   
Jemini took a deep breath and counted to ten. “Then we have nothing more to say to one another.”   
She turned to leave, and he caught her arm. “ _Fine_ , but don’t expect this _often_. I… Kenobi took everything from me. My position, my sanity, my _body_ , my life… and now, I don’t know what this is. I don’t know what you _want_ from me. I don’t know what I can give you.”

Jemini didn’t pull away, but she turned, stepping closer to him. “That doesn’t give you a right to rule my life.”   
Maul glared. “I once ruled—”   
“I don’t _care_ , or at least, I am trying not to.” Jemini sighed. “I want to believe you’ve changed since Mandalore, because I _like you_. But there’s only so far my personal regard can _go_ , Maul. You have to make an effort.”

“Why do you think I would _care_ if it was Kenobi if I didn’t have _a personal regard_ for you?” He spat.   
“Because you hate him, and I am not going to let you reduce me to a _thing_ to be used against him! I am a _person_ , Maul.”   
“I _know_ that! I’m not a fool.”

Jemini scoffed. “Could have fooled me.”   
“You are _incredibly_ annoying! I am _trying_ to apologize!”   
“You’re not very good at it.”   
“I don’t even know what I should be apologizing for! Why are you angry?”   
Jemini took a deep breath to centre herself. “I am angry because I want you to be with me for more than your feelings about Obi-Wan Kenobi!”

“That’s simple. I don’t have sex with _anyone_ either. Issue resolved.” Maul said dismissively.   
“For Force’s sake, would it _kill_ you to admit you made bantha fodder of the situation?!”   
“ _You_ reacted with anger.”   
“ _You_ burst in and demanded to know why I hadn’t told you about my sexual history!”

“Well, I never pretended to have the impartiality of the Jedi.” Maul shrugged.   
“I’m going to leave now.” Jemini snarled. “Before I do something I regret.”   
“ _Stop running_.” Maul snapped. “I thought you had a bit more spine than the other Jedi. You work yourself up into this rage which is _fun_ , but it’s getting annoying. I don’t want you to go. I don’t want you furious with me. I would _prefer_ if we kept up the… touching.”

“Sex.” Jemini corrected flatly.   
“Touching.” Maul glared. “Sex is good, touching in general is better. Especially from you. _Only_ from you. _There_ , I was vulnerable!”   
“It’s not a prize!” Jemini huffed, before pinching the bridge of her nose. “That was callous of me. …thank you for your honesty. Do you really not know what you did wrong?”   
Maul shrugged. “Your brother tried to explain. I tuned him out.”   
“Of course you did.” Jemini sighed.

“…but I wouldn’t tune you out.” Maul offered. “And… I was wrong. In my assumptions. About you and Kenobi. Because you’re mine now.”   
“And how long until you leave me?” Jemini asked.   
Maul shrugged. “I haven’t left yet.”   
Jemini offered a small smile. “Then I’ll enjoy this until you do.”


End file.
